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JWO SIEGES 

OE PARIS 

Or, H Oirl or the Commiino 


BY V 

G. A. HKNTY 

AUTHOR OF “in FREEDOM’S CAUSE,” “WITH EEE IN 
VIRGINIA,” ETC. ETC. 





NEW YORK 

R. F. FENNO.& COMPANY 

9 AND II EAST I 6th street 


Tur 


Copyright, 189s 

BY 

G. A. H^NTY 



>■' 




Excjhafifl# 

Utoraf-y of Supreme Council AAS.R. 


Two Sieges of Paris 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


CHAPTER I. 

Jeremiah Brander was one of the most prominent person- 
ages in the Cathedral town of Abchester. He inhabited an old- 
fashioned, red brick house near the end of the High Street. 
On either side was a high wall facing the street, and from this 
a garden, enclosing the house, stretched away to a little stream 
some two hundred yards in the rear ; so that the house com- 
bined the advantage of a business residence in front, with those 
of seclusion, an excellent garden, and an uninterrupted view 
behind. 

Jeremiah Brander enjoyed, in a very large degree, the confi- 
dence and respect of his fellow-townsmen. His father and his 
grandfather had been, like himself, solicitors, and he numbered 
among his clients most of the county families round. Smaller 
business he left to the three younger men who divided between 
them the minor legal business of the place. He in no way re- 
garded them as rivals, and always spoke of them benevolently 
as worthy men to whom all such business as the collection of 
debts, criminal prosecutions, and such matters as the buying 
and selling of houses in the town, could be safely entrusted. 
As for himself he preferred to attend only to business in his 
own line, and he seldom accepted fresh clients, never, indeed, 
until a new-comer had taken his place among the accepted so- 
ciety of the county. 

In the public business of the city, however, he played a very 
important part. He was Town Clerk, treasurer of several so- 

5 


6 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


cieties, solicitor to the Abchester County and City Bank, legal 
adviser of the Cathedral Authorities, deacon of the principal 
Church, City Alderman, president of the Musical Society, treas- 
urer of the Hospital, a director of the Gas Company, and was 
in fact ready at all times to take a prominent part in any move- 
ment in the place. 

He was a man of some fifty years of age, inclined to be stout, 
somewhat florid in complexion, and always dressed with scru- 
ulous care. There was nothing about him to indicate that he 
belonged to the legal profession. His talk as a rule was genial 
and almost cheery, but his manner varied according to the cir- 
cumstances. In his capacity as treasurer he was concise and 
business-like ; in matters connected with the Church he was a 
little given to be dogmatic, which, considering the liberality of 
his subscriptions to all the Church objects and charities was but 
natural. 

As president of the Musical Society he was full of tact, and 
acted the part of general conciliator in all the numerous squab- 
bles, jealousies, and heart-burnings incidental to such associa- 
tions. In every one of the numerous offices he filled he gave 
unbounded satisfaction, and the only regret among his fellow- 
townsmen was that he had on three occasions refused to accept 
the honor of the Mayoralty, alleging, and with a fair show of 
reason, that although ready at all times to aid to the utmost in 
any movement set afoot for the advantage of the city, it was 
impossible for him to spare the time required to perform prop- 
erly the duties of Mayor. 

Jeremiah Brander had married the daughter of a gentleman 
of an old county family which had fallen somewhat jn circum- 
stances. It was rumored at the time that he had ’^ent some 
assistance to the head of the family, and that the m^tch was 
scarcely a willing one on the lady’s part. However that might 
be, no whisper had ever been heard that the marriage was an 
unhappy one. It was regarded as rather a come-down for her, 
but if so she never showed that she felt it as a fall. The mar- 
riage had certainly improved his standing in the county. His 
wife formed a sort of link between him and his clients, and he 


A GIRL OF THE CO MM [/HE. 


7 


occupied a considerably better position among them than his 
father had done, being generally accepted as a friend as well 
as a legal adviser. 

It is not to be supposed that so successful a man had no de- 
tractors. One of his legal brethren had been heard to speak 
of him contemptuously as a humbug. A medical practitioner 
who had failed to obtain the post of House Surgeon at the 
Hospital, owing to the support the President had given to. An- 
other competitor for the post, had alluded to him bitterly as a 
blatant ass ; and a leading publican who had been fined before 
the magistrates for diluting his spirits, was in the habit of 
darkly uttering his opinion that Jerry Brander was a deep card 
and up to no good. 

But as every great man has his enemies, the opinion of a few 
malcontents went for nothing in the general concensus of ad- 
miration for one who was generally regarded as among the 
pillars of Abchester society, and an honor to the city. 

“ It is high time you did something, Jerry,” his wife said to' 
him one morning after their three daughters had left the break- 
fast-table. 

“ In what way, Eliza ? ” Mr. Brander said, looking up from 
his newspaper ; “ it seems to me I do a good deal.” 

“You know what I mean,” she said, sharply. “You know 
you promised me a hundred times that you would give up all 
this miserable business and settle down in the county. The 
girls are growing up, Mary has just left Girton and is of an age 
to go into society.” 

“ She may be of age,” Mr. Brander said, with an irritability 
unusual to him, “ but it strikes me that society is the last thing 
she is thinking of. We made a mistake altogether in giving 
way to her and letting her go to that place ; she has got her 
head full of all sorts of absurd ideas about woman’s mission 
and woman’s duties, and nonsense of that sort, and has got out 
of hand altogether. You have not a shadow of influence over 
her, and I can’t say that I have much more. Thank goodness 
her sisters don’t take after her in any way.” 

“ Well, that is all true,” Mrs. Brander said, “and you know 


8 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


we have agreed on that subject for a long time, but it is no 
answer to my question. I have been content to live all these 
years in this miserable dull place, because I was fool enough to 
believe your promise that you would in time give up all this 
work and take a position in the county.” 

“ To some extent I kept my promise,” he said. “ There is 
not a week that we don’t drive half-a-dozen miles, and some- 
times a dozen, to take part in a dull dinner.” 

“ That is all very well so far as it goes, but we simply go to 
these dinners because you are the family lawyer and I am your 
wife.” 

“ Well, well, you know, Eliza, that I was in treaty for the 
Haywood’s Estate when that confounded mine that I had in- 
vested in went wrong, and fifteen thousand were lost at a blow 
— a nice kettle of fish we made between us of that.” 

“We,” she repeated, scornfully. 

“Yes, we. You know perfectly well that before I w^ent into 
it I consulted you. The mine was paying well then, and at the 
rate I bought in would have paid twenty per cent, on the invest- 
ment. I told you that there was a certain risk always with 
these mines, and that it was either a big addition to our income 
or a total loss.” 

“ Yes, but you said that coal mines were not like other 
mines.” 

“ And as a rule they are not,” he said, “ but there was first 
that great strike, then a fall in the price of coal, and then just 
when things began to look better again we came upon that fault 
that nobody had dreamt of being there, and then the whole 
thing went to smash. You must not be impatient. I am as 
anxious as you are, Eliza, to have done with all this, and I hope 
by the time Clara and Julia are ready to come out, I may be 
able to carry out the plans we have always had — I as much as 
you. Tancred takes a great deal of the work off my hands 
now, and I can see that he has the confidence of most of my 
people. In another couple of years I shall have no fear of the 
business falling off if I hand it over to him entirely. You 
know he has only a fifth share, and I have no doubt he will be 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


9 

glad to arrange to pay me half or perhaps three-fifths when I 
retire. Now I must be going across to the office.” 

The office was situated in a smaller house standing opposite 
the lawyer’s residence. In his father’s time a portion of the 
ground floor of the house was devoted to business purposes, but 
after his marriage Jeremiah Brander had taken the house 
opposite and made it his place of business. 

About twelve o’clock a gig drew up at the door ; a moment 
later a young clerk came in. 

“ Doctor Edwards wishes to speak to you, Mr. Brander.” 

Show him in.” 

“ Well, doctor,” he said, as his visitor entered, “ it is seldom 
that I see you here, though we meet often enough elsewhere. 
Come you to buy or to sell, or do you want a will prepared or a 
patient sued t If so you know that’s altogether out of my line.” 

“I quite understand that, Brander,” the other said, as he 
took the armchair the lawyer pointed out to him. “ No, I have 
come to tell you something you will be very sorry to hear. I 
have just come in from Fairclose. I had a note from Harting- 
ton last night asking me to go over first thing this morning.” 

“ He does not look like a man who would require professional 
services, doctor ; he is sixty, I suppose, but he could tire out 
most of the younger men either across country or after the 
partridges.” 

“ Yes, he looks as hard as iron and sound as a roach, but ap- 
pearances are deceptive. I should have said as you do yester- 
day if anyone had asked me. I have come to tell you to-day in 
confidence that he has not many months, perhaps not many 
weeks to live.” 

The lawyer uttered an exclamation of surprise and regret. 

“ Yes, it is a bad business,” the doctor went on, “ he told 
me that when he came back from hunting yesterday he went up- 
stairs to change when suddenly the room seemed to go round. 
Fortunately he had just sat down on a couch and taken off his 
top boots, and he fell sideways on to it. He says he was in- 
sensible for about half an hour; the first thing he was conscious 
of was the servant knocking at the door, to say that dinner 


10 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


was ready ; he told the man that he did not feel well and should 
not go down ; he got off his things and lay down for an hour 
and then felt well enough to write the note to me. Of course 
I made a thorough examination of him, and found that, as I 
feared, it was a bad case of heart disease, probably latent for a 
long time, but now I sho ild say making rapid progress. Of 
course I told him something of the truth. 

“ ‘ Is it as bad as that ? ’ he said. ‘ I have felt a lot of palpita- 
tion lately after a hard run with the hounds, and fancied some- 
thing must be wrong. Well, say nothing about it, doctor ; when 
it comes it must come, but I don’t want my affairs to be dis- 
cussed or to know that every man I meet is saying to himself 
‘ poor old buffer, we shan’t have him long among us.’ 

“ Then he said more seriously, ‘ I would rather it should be 
so than that I should outgrow my strength and become a con- 
firmed invalid. I have enjoyed my life and have done my best 
to do my duty as a landlord and as a magistrate. I am as 
prepared to die now as I should be twenty years on. I have 
been rather a lonely man since I lost my wife. Cuthbert’s ways 
are not my ways, for he likes life in London, cares nothing 
for field sports. But we can’t all be cast in one groove, you 
know, and I have never tried to persuade him to give up his life 
for mine, why should I ? However, though I wish you to tell 
no one else, I should be glad if you will call on Brander and 
ask him to drive over. I made my will years ago, but there are 
a few matters I should like to talk over with him.’ ” 

“ This is sad, indeed,” the lawyer said, sympathetically. 
“ The Squire — everyone about here calls him the Squire, you 
know, though there are men with broader acres than his in the 
neighborhood — will be terribly missed. Dear, dear, it will 
make a sad gap indeed : how long do you think he is likely to 
last ? ” 

“ He might go at any moment, Brander ; but as he has rallied 
from this shock it may be some little time before he has an- 
other. I should give him perhaps a couple of months. By the 
way, I think his son ought to be informed of it.” 

“ I will ask him about it,” the lawyer said. “ Of course 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


II 


Cuthbert ought to know, but may be the Squire will keep it .en- 
tirely to himself. I should say there is nothing that would up- 
set him more than the thought of being fretted over, and I am 
not sure that he is not right. Of course I shall drive over there 
this afternoon.’^ 

After Dr. Edwards had left, Jeremiah Brander sat for a long 
time in deep thought. Once the clerk came in to ask for in- 
structions about a deed that he was drawing up, but he waved 
him away impatiently. “ Put it aside,” he said, “ I cannot see 
to it just now, I am busy, and not to be disturbed for the next 
hour, whoever comes.” 

It was evidently a difficult problem Jeremiah Brander had to 
solve. He took out his bank-book and went though his pay- 
ments for a long while back and then went through some bun- 
dles of old checks. One of these he took off the file ; it was 
for the sum of fifteen thousand pounds, made payable to self. 

“ It is lucky now,” he muttered, “ that I drew it, as I didn’t 
want it known even in the bank what I was putting the money 
into,” then from a strong box with the name “ J. W. Hartington,” 
he took out a bundle of documents, many of which were re- 
ceipts for money signed by the Squire, carefully examined the 
dates and amounts, and put them down on a piece of paper. 

“ There would be no difficulty about the signature,” he said ; 

none whatever ; a child could imitate it.” 

Laying one of the sheets before him he wrote on a sheet of 
foolscap “J. W. Hartington” a score of times, imitating the 
somewhat crabbed handwriting so accurately that even an ex- 
pert would have had some difficulty in detecting the difference ; 
he then tore the sheet into small pieces, put them into the heart 
of the fire, and watched them shrivel up to nothing. 

“ I think it could be done without the slightest risk,” he said 
to himself, “ if one managed the details carefully.” Then he 
sat down and remained for half an hour without stirring. “ It 
can be done,” he said at last, “ it is well worth trying ; the prop- 
perty ought to be worth seventy thousand, but at a forced sale 
it might go for fifty-five or sixty. I reckoned last week that I 
could sell out my stocks for twenty-six thousand, which, with 


12 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


the fifteen thousand, would bring it over forty, and I could raise 
the balance on the estate without difficulty ; then with the rents 
and what I shall draw for this business, I shall be in clover.” 
He locked up the papers carefully, put on his hat, and went 
across the road to lunch. 

There was no trace in his face or manner of the grave mat- 
ters that had occupied his thoughts for the last two hours. He 
was cheerful and even gay over the meal. He joked Mary 
about the advancement of women, told the other girls that he 
intended that they should take lessons in riding, gave them an 
amusing account of the meeting of the Musical Society he had 
attended the evening before, and told his wife that she must 
dress specially well at the dinner they were going to that even- 
ing, as he had heard that most of the county big-wigs would 
be there. 

Mr. Brander was always pleasant in the bosom of his family, 
occasionally sharp words might pass when he and his wife were 
alone, but when the girls were present he was always the genial 
father. There is no better advertisement for a man than his 
children’s talk. They are unconsciously his best trumpeters, 
and when Mr. Brander’s name was mentioned and his many 
services to his townsmen talked over, the fact that-hff was one 
of the best and kindest of men in his family circle, and that his 
girls positively worshipped him, was sure to be adduced as finals 
and clinching evidence of the goodness of his character. 

After lunch he went down to the bank and had a private 
interview with the manager. 

“ By the bye,” he said, after a short talk, “ I have a client 
who wants to buy fifty shares.” 

The manager glanced sharply at him. 

“ They stand at a premium,” Mr. Brander went on, as if not 
noticing the glance ; “ though they have fallen thirty shillings 
lately. It is not an investment I should myself recommend, 
but at the same time, for various reasons, I did not care to en- 
deavor to dissuade him ; it would scarcely do for it to be re- 
ported that I had said anything to the disadvantage of this in- 
stitution, standing as I do in the position of its solicitor. I 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


13 


think you mentioned the other day that you held rather more 
shares than you cared for, perhaps you could let me have 
some ? ” 

The other nodded. “ I could part with fifty,” he said, dryly. 

“ Let me think, when was the last board meeting ? ” 

“ This day fortnight.” 

“ I have rather neglected the matter in the pressure of busi- 
ness,” Mr. Brander said, quietly, “ and my client thinks the 
matter is already concluded, so perhaps it would be as well to 
date the transfer on the day after the board meeting, and I will 
date my check accordingly.” 

“ It will be all the same to me,” the manager said, “ shall I 
draw out the transfer at once ? ” 

“ Do so. The shares stand at six pounds ten, I think, so I 
will draw you out a check for three hundred and twenty-five 
pounds. That will be right, I think,” and he wrote a check 
and handed it across to the manager. 

“ What name shall I put in as the purchaser, Mr. Brander ? ” 

“ James William Hartington.” 

The manager lifted his brows and hesitated for a moment, 
but then, without a remark, filled in the transfer, dating it as 
requested. 

“ I must get two of the clerks to witness my signature,” he 
said. 

The lawyer nodded. 

Two young clerks were fetched up by the messenger. 

“ I only want you to witness my signature,” the manager said, 
as he signed his name. “ Please to sign here, Mr. Karford ; 
now Mr. Levison, you sign underneath.” He held his finger to 
the spot where they were to sign in such a way that they could 
not even if they wished read the name inserted in the body of 
the document. 

“ I will take it away with me and obtain Hartington’s signa- 
ture,” Mr. Brander said, after they had left the room, “ I am 
going over to see him now. I will send it in to you before the 
next board meeting, and by the way it would be as well when 
you get it stamped to pass it in with several others. I know 


u 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


how these things are done, and in ninety-nine cases out of a 
hundred the directors don’t even glance at the names on the 
transfers. Of course they are nothing to them, they have other 
things to think about, but there might possibly be some remark 
at your transferring some of your shares just at the present 
moment. By the way,” he said, carelessly, “ I don’t think if I 
were you I would make any further advances to Mildrake. Of 
course, he has a big business, and no doubt he is all right, but 
I have learned privately that they are not doing as well as 
they seem to be, and I know the bank is pretty deep there 
already.” 

The manager turned somewhat paler, but said, though with 
manifest effort — 

“ They are perfectly safe, Mr. Brander, as safe as a bank.” 

“ No doubt, no doubt, Mr. Gumming, but you know all banks 
•are not perfectly safe. Well, I dare say you can manage that 
for me.” 

“ Certainly, there can be no difficulty whatever about it. I 
have ten or twelve other transfers, and there will doubtless be 
some more before next board meeting. The affixing the stamp 
is a purely mechanical business.” 

After the lawyer had left Mr. Gumming sat for some time 
passing his hand nervously over his chip. 

“Brander evidently has an idea that all is not right,” he 
thought to himself. “Of course he cannot 4^now how things 
really stand or he would never have let Hartington take shares. 
It is a curious transaction altogether, and I cannot make head 
nor tail of it. However, that is no business of mine. I will 
cash the check at once and send the money to town with the 
rest ; if Mildrake can hold on we may tide matters over for the 
present ; if not there will be a crash. Howevei*; he promised 
to send me forty-eight hours’ notice, and that will be enough 
for me to arrange matters and get off.” 

Returning to his office the lawyer found his gig waiting at 
the door, and at once drove over to Fairclose, Mr. Hartington’s 
place. 

“ I am grieved, indeed, to hear the news Edwards brought me 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


IS 

this morning,” he said, as he entered the room where the Squire 
was sitting. 

' “ Yes, it is rather sudden, Brander, but a little sooner or a 
little later does not make much difference after all. Edwards 
told you, of course, that I want nothing said about it.” 

“ That is so.” 

“ Nothing would annoy me more than to have any fuss. I 
shall just go on as I have before, except that I shall give up 
hunting ; it is just the end of the season, and there will be but 
two or three more meets. I shall drive to them and have a chat 
with my friends and see the hounds throw off. I shalhgive out 
that I strained myself a bit the last time I was out, and must 
give up riding for a time. Have you brought my will over with 
you ? ” 

“Yes, I thought you might want to add something to it.” 

“ That is right, there are two or three small legacies I have 
thought of ; there is a list of them.” 

Mr. Brander took out the will and added a codicil. The 
legacies were small ones of ten or twenty pounds to various old 
people in the village, and the work occupied but a few minutes. 
The housekeeper and one of the men were called up to witness 
the signature, and when they had retired Mr. Brander sat chat- 
ting for half an hour on general topics, Mr. Hartington avoid- 
ing any furthe* allusion to the subject of his illness. Mr. 
Brander got back in time to dress comfortably for dinner. 

“ Really, Mary,” he said, when he went into the drawing-room 
where his wife and Mary were waiting ready for him, “ I do 
think you might dress yourself a little more brightly when we 
are going to such a house as we are to-night. I don’t say that 
that black siljc with the lace and those white flowers are not be- 
coming, but I think something lighter and gayer would be more 
appropriate to a young girl.” 

“ I don’t like colors, father, and if it hadn’t been for mamma 
I should never have thought of getting these expensive flowers. 
I do think women lower themselves by dressing themselves 
as butterflies. No wonder men consider they think of nothing 
but dress and have no minds for higher matters.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


i6 


“ Pooh, pooh, my dear, the first duty of a young woman is to 
look as pretty as she can. According to my experience men 
don’t trouble themselves much about the mind, and a butterfly 
after all is a good deal more admired than a bee, though the 
bee is much more useful in the long run.” 

“ If a woman is contented to look like a butterfly, father, she 
must be content to be taken for one, but I must say I think it is 
degrading that men should look upon it in that light. They 
don’t dress themselves up in all sorts of colors, why should 
we.” 

“ I am sure I can’t tell you why, Mary, but I suppose it is a 
sort of instinct, and instincts are seldom wrong. If it had been 
intended that women should dress themselves as plainly and 
monotonously as we do, they would not have had the love of 
decorating themselves implanted almost universally among 
them. You are on the wrong track, child, on the wrong track 
althogether, and if you and those who think like you imagine 
that you are going to upset the laws of nature and to make women 
rivals of men in mind if not in manner, instead of being what 
they were meant to be, wives and mothers, you are altogether 
mistaken.” 

“ That is only another way of putting it, father, that because 
woman have for ages been treated as inferiors they ought always 
to remain so.” 

“ Well, well, my dear, we won’t argue over it. I think you 
are altogether wrong, but I have no objection to your going 
your own way and finding it out at last for yourself, but that 
does not alter my opinion that on an occasion of a set dinner- 
party in the county where everybody will be in their fullest fig, 
that dress, which is pretty and becoming enough in its way, I 
admit, can hardly be considered as appropriate.” 

Mary did not answer, but gave an almost imperceptible shrug 
of her shoulders, expressing clearly her absolute indifference to 
other people’s tastes so long as she satisfied her own. Mary 
was indeed decided in most of her opinions. Although essen- 
tially feminine in most respects, she and the set to which she 
had belonged at Girton, had established it as a principle to their 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


17 


own satisfaction, that feminine weaknesses were to be sternly 
discouraged as the main cause of the position held relatively to 
men. Thus they cultivated a certain brusqueness of speech, 
expressed their opinion uncompromisingly, and were distin- 
guished by a certain plainness in the fashion of their gowns, and 
by the absence of trimmings, frillings, and similar adornments. 

At heart she was as fond of pretty things as other girls of her 
age, and had, when she attired herself, been conscious that she 
felt a greater satisfaction at her appearance than she ought to 
have done, and doubted whether she had not made an undue 
concession to the vanities of society in the matter of her laces 
and flowers. She had, however, soothed her conscience by the 
consideration that she was at home but for a short time, and 
while there she might well fall in with her parents’ views, as she 
would be soon starting for Germany to enter upon earnest work. 
Her father’s remarks then were in a sense satisfactory to her, 
as they showed that, although she had made concessions, she 
had at least gone but half-way. 

The dinner passed off well. Mary was fortunate in being 
taken down by a gentleman who had advanced views on the 
necessity of British agriculturists adopting scientific farming 
if they were to hold their own against foreign producers, and 
she surprised him by the interest she exhibited in his theories. 
So much so, that he always spoke of her afterwards as one of 
the most intelligent young women he had ever met. 

Mr. Brander was in remarkably good spirits. On such occa- 
sions he entirely dropped his profession, and showed a keen 
interest in all matters connected with the land. No one would 
that evening have supposd that his mind was in the smallest 
degree preoccupied by grave matters of any kind. 

2 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUIIE. 


i8 


CHAPTER II. 

As his father had said, Cuthbert Hartington’s tastes differed 
widely from his own. Cuthbert was essentially a Londoner, 
a,nd his friends would have had difficulty in picturing him as 
engaged in country pursuits. Indeed, Cuthbert Hartington, in 
a scarlet coat, or toiling through a turnip field in heavy boots 
with a gun on his shoulder, would have been to them an absurd 
anomaly. 

It was not that he lacked strength ; on the contrary, he was 
tall and well, if loosely, built. Grace is not a common manly 
attribute, but he possessed it to an eminent degree. There 
was a careless ease in his manner, an unconscious picturesque- 
ness in his poses, a turn, that would have smacked of haughti- 
ness had there been the slightest element of pride in his dis- 
position, in the curve of the neck, and well-poised head. 

His life was chiefly passed among artists, and like them as a 
class, he affected loose and easy attire. He wore turn-down 
collars with a carelessly-knotted necktie, and a velvet jacket. 
He was one of those men whom his intimates declared to be 
capable of doing anything he chose, and who chose to do noth- 
ing. He had never distinguished himself in any way at Harrow. 
He had maintained a fair place in his forms as he moved up 
in the school, but had done so rather from natural ability than 
from study. He had never been in the eleven, although it was 
the general opinion he would have certainly had a place in it 
had he chosen to play regularly. As he sauntered through 
Harrow so he sauntered through Cambridge ; keeping just 
enough chapels and lectures to avoid getting into trouble, pass- 
ing the examinations without actual discredit, rowing a little, 
playing cricket when the fit seized him, but preferring to take 
life easily and to avoid toil, either mental or bodily. Neverthe- 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


19 

less he read a great deal, and on general subjects was one of 
the best informed men of his college. 

He spent a good deal of his time in sketching and painting, 
art being his one passion. His sketches were the admiration 
of his friends, but although he had had the best lessons he 
could obtain at the University he lacked the application and 
industry to convert the sketches into finished paintings. His 
vacations were spent chiefly on the Continent, for his life at 
home bored him immensely, and to him a week among the Swiss 
lakes, or in the galleries of Munich or Dresden, was worth 
more than all the pleasures that country life could give him. 

He went home for a short time after leaving the University, 
but his stay there was productive of pleasure to neither his 
father nor himself. They had not a single taste in common, and 
though Cuthbert made an effort to take an interest in field 
sports and farming, it was not long before his father himself 
told him that as it was evident the life was altogether distaste- 
ful to him, and his tastes lay in another direction, he was per- 
fectly ready to make him an allowance that would enable him 
either to travel or to live in chambers in London. 

“ I am sorry, of course, lad,” he said, “ that you could not 
make yourself happy with me here, but I don’t blame you, for 
it is after all a matter of natural disposition. Of course you 
will come down here sometimes, and at any rate I shall be 
happier in knowing that you are living your own life and enjoy- 
ing yourself in your own way, than I should be in seeing you 
trying in vain to take to pursuits from which you would derive 
no pleasure whatever.” 

“ I am awfully sorry, father,” Cuthbert had said. I heartily 
wish it had been otherwise, but I own that I would rather live 
in London on an almost starvation income than settle down 
here. I have really tried hard to get to like things that you do. 
I feel it would have been better if I had always stayed here 
and had a tutor ; then, no doubt, I should have taken to field 
sports and so on. However, it is no use regretting that now, 
and I am very thankful for your offer.” 

Accordingly he had gone up to London, taken chambers in 


20 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Gray’s Inn, where two or three of his college friends were 
established, and joined a Bohemian Club, where he made the 
acquaintance of several artists, and soon became a member of 
their set. He had talked vaguely of taking up art as a profes- 
sion, but nothing ever came of it. There was an easel or two 
in his rooms and any number of unfinished paintings ; but he 
was fastidious over his own work and unable from want of 
knowledge of technique to carry out his ideas, and the canvases 
were one after another thrown aside in disgust. His friends 
upbraided him bitterly with his want of application, not alto- 
gether without effect ; he took their remonstrances in perfect 
good temper, but without making the slightest effort to improve. 
He generally accompanied some of them on their sketching 
expeditions to Normandy, Brittany, Spain, or Algiers, and his 
portfolios were the subject of mingled admiration and anger 
among his artist friends in St. John’s Wood ; admiration at the 
vigor and talent that his sketches displayed, anger that he 
should be content to do nothing greater. 

His days were largely spent in their studios where, seated in 
the most comfortable chair he could find, he would smoke lazily 
and watch them at work and criticise freely. Men grumbled 
and laughed at his presumption, but were ready to acknowledge 
the justice of his criticism. He had an excellent eye for color 
and effect and for the contrast of light and shade, and those 
whose pictures were hung, were often ready enough to admit 
that the canvas owed much of its charm to some happy sug- 
gestion on Cuthbert’s often ready part. 

Every two or three months he went home for a fortnight. He 
was greatly attached to his father, and it was the one drawback 
to the contentment of his life that he had been unable to carry 
out the Squire’s wishes, and to settle down with him at Fairclose. 
He would occasionally bemoan himself over this to his friends. 

“ I am as bad as the prodigal son,” he would say, “ except 
that I don’t get what I deserve, and have neither to feed on 
husks nor to tend swine ; but though the fatted calf would be 
ready for me if I were to return I can’t bring myself to do so.” 

“ I don’t know about being a prodigal,” Wilson, one of the 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


21 


oldest of his set would grumble in reply, “ but I do know you 
are a lazy young beggar, and are wasting your time and op- 
portunities ; it is a thousand pities you were born with a silver 
spoon in your mouth. Your father ought to have turned you 
adrift with an allowance just sufficient to have kept you on bread 
and butter, and have left you to provide everything else for 
yourself ; then you would have been an artist, sir, and would 
have made a big name for yourself. You would have had no 
occasion to waste your time in painting pot-boilers, but could 
have devoted yourself to good, honest, serious work, which is 
more than most of us can do. We are obliged to consider what 
will sell and to please the public by turning out what they call 
pretty pictures — children playing with dogs, and trumpery things 
of that sort. Bah, it is sickening to see a young fellow wasting 
his life so.” 

But Cuthbert only laughed good-temperedly, he was ac- 
customed to such tirades, and was indeed of a singularly sweet 
and easy temper. 

It was the end of the first week in May, the great artistic 
event of the year was over, the Academy was opened, the pictures 
had been seen and criticised, there was the usual indignation at 
pictures being hung generally voted to be daubs, while others 
that had been considered among the studios as certain of 
acceptance, had been rejected. Two or three of Cuthbert’s 
friends were starting at once for Cornwall to enjoy a rest after 
three months’ steady work and to lay in a stock of fresh sketches 
for pictures for the following year. 

“ I will go with you,” Cuthbert said when they informed him 
of their intention, “ it is early yet, but it is warm enough even 
for loafing on the rocks, and I hate London when it’s full. I will 
go for a fortnight anyhow,” and so with Wilson and two younger 
men, he started for Newquay, on the north of Cornwall. Once 
established there the party met only at meals. 

“ We don’t want to be doing the same bits,” Wilson said, 
“ and we shall see plenty of each other of an evening.” Cuth- 
bert was delighted with the place, and with his usual enthusiasm 
speedily fixed upon a subject, and setting up his easel and camp- 


22 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


stool began work on the morning after his arrival. He had 
been engaged but a few hours when two young ladies came 
along. They stopped close to him, and Cuthbert, who hated 
being overlooked when at work, was on the point of growling 
an anathema under his fair drooping mustache, when one of 
the girls came close and said quietly — 

“ How are you, Mr. Hartington ? Who would have thought of 
meeting you here ! ” 

He did not recognize her for a moment and then exclaimed — 

“ Why, it is Mary Brander. I beg your pardon,” he went on, 
taking off his soft, broad-brimmed hat, “ I ought to have said 
Miss Brander, but having known you so long as Mary Brander, 
the name slipped out. It must have been three years since we 
met, and you have shot up from a girl into a full-grown young 
lady. Are your father and mother here ? ” 

‘‘ No, I came down last week to stay with my friend. Miss 
Tread wyn, who was at Girton with me. Anna, this is Mr. Cuth- 
bert Hartington. Mr. Hartington’s place is near Abchester, 
and he is one of my father’s clients.” 

Miss Treadwyn bowed and Cuthbert took off his hat. 

‘‘ We have known each other ever since we were children,” 
Mary went bn, “ that is to say ever since I was a child, for he 
was a big boy then ; he often used to come into our house, 
while Mr. Hartington was going into business matters with my 
father, and generally amused himself by teasing me. He used 
to treat me as if I was a small sort of monkey, and generally 
ended by putting me in a passion ; of course that was in the 
early days.” 

“ Before you came to years of discretion, Miss Brander. You 
were growing a very discreet damsel when I last saw you, and 
I felt rather afraid of you. I know that you were good enough 
to express much disapproval of me and my ways.” 

“ Very likely I did, though I don’t remember it. I think I 
was very outspoken in those days.” 

“ I do not think you have changed much in that respect, 
Mary,” Miss Treadwyn said. 

“ Why should one say what one does not think,” Mary said, 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


23 


sturdily, “ it would be much better if we all did so. Do you 
not agree with me, Mr. Hartington ? ” 

“ It depends upon what ‘better ’ means; it would be awful 
to think of the consequences if we all did so. Society would 
dissolve itself into its component parts and every man’s hand 
would be against his neighbor. I do not say that people should 
say what they do not think, but I am sure that the world would 
not be so pleasant as it is by a long way if every one was to say 
exactly what he did think. Just imagine what the sensation of 
authors or artists would be if critics were to state their opinions 
with absolute candor ! ” 

“ I think it were better if they did so, Mr. Hartington ; in 
that case there would be fewer idiotic books wTitten and fewer 
men wasting their lives in trying vainly to produce good paint- 
ings.” 

“That is true enough,” Cuthbert laughed, “but you must 
remember that critics do not buy either books or paintings, and 
that there are plenty of people who buy the idiotic books and 
are perfectly content with pictures without a particle of artistic 
merit.” 

“ I suppose so,” she admitted, reluctantly, “ but so much the 
worse, for it causes mediocrity ! ” 

“ But we are most of us mediocre — authors like Dickens, 
Thackeray, and George Eliot are the exceptions — and so are 
artists like Millais and Landseer, but when books and paintings 
give pleasure they fulfil their purpose, don’t they ? ” 

“ If their purpose is to afford a livelihood to those that make 
them, I suppose they do, Mr. Hartington ; but they do not ful- 
fil what ought to be their purpose — which should, of course, be 
to elevate the mind or to improve the taste.” 

He shook his head. 

“ That is too lofty an ideal altogether for me,” he said. “ I 
doubt whether men are much happier for their minds being im- 
proved or their tastes elevated, unless they are fortunate enough 
to have sufficient means to gratify those tastes. If a man is 
happy and contented with the street he lives in, the house he 
inhabits, the pictures on his walls, and the books he gets from 


24 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


a library, is he better off when you teach him that the street is 
mean and ugly, the house an outrage on architectural taste, the 
wall-papers revolting, the pictures daubs, and the books trash ? 
Upon my word I don’t think so. I am afraid I am a Philistine.” 

“ But you are an artist, are you not, Mr. Hartington,” Miss 
Treadwyn said, looking at the sketch which had already made 
considerable progress. 

“ Unfortunately, no ; I have a taste for art, but that is all. I 
should be better off if I had not, for then I should be contented 
with doing things like this ; as it is I am in a perpetual state of 
grumble because I can do no better.” 

“You know the Latin proverb meliora video^ and so on, Mr. 
Hartington, does it apply ? ” 

“ That is the first time I have had Latin quoted against me 
by a young lady,” Cuthbert said, smilingly, but with a sFight 
flush that showed the shaft had gone home. “ I will not deny 
that the quotation exactly hits my case. I can only plead that 
nature, which gave me the love for art, did not give me the 
amount of energy and the capacity for hard work that are re- 
quisite to its successful cultivation, and has not even given me 
the stimulus of necessity, which is, I fancy, the greatest human 
motor.” 

“ I should be quite content to paint as well as you do, Mr. 
Hartington,” Anna Treadwyn said. “ It must add immensely 
to the pleasure of travelling to be able to carry home such re- 
membrances of places one has seen.” 

“ Yes, it does so. Miss Treadwyn. I have done a good deal 
of wandering about in a small way, and have quite a pile of 
portfolios by whose aid I can travel over the ground again 
and recall not only the scenery but almost every incident, how- 
ever slight, that occurred in connection therewith.” 

“ Well, Anna, I think we had better be continuing our walk.” 

“ I suppose we had. May I ask, Mr. Hartington, where you 
are staying ? I am sure my mother will be very pleased if you 
will call upon us at Porthalloc. There is a glorious view from 
the garden. I suppose you will be at work all day, but you 
are sure to find us in of an evening.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


25 

“Yes, I fancy I shall live in the open air as long as there is 
light enough to sketch ,by, Miss Tread wyn, but if your mother 
will be good enough to allow me to waive ceremony, I will 
come up some evening after dinner ; in the meantime may I say 
that I shall always be found somewhere along the shore, and 
will be glad to receive with due humility any chidings that my 
old playmate, if she will allow me to call her so, may choose to 
bestow upon me.” 

Anna Treadwyn nodded. “ I expect we shall be here every 
day ; the sea is new to Mary, and at present she is wild about 
it.” 

“ How could you go on so, Mary,” she went on, as they con- 
tinued their walk. 

“ How could I ? ” the girl replied. “ Have we not agreed 
that one of the chief objects of women’s lives should not only 
be to raise their own sex to the level of man, but generally to 
urge men to higher aims, and yet because I have very mildly 
shown my disapproval of Cuthbert Hartington’s laziness and 
waste of his talents, you ask me how I can do it ! ” 

“ Well, you see, Mary, it is one thing for us to form all sorts 
of resolutions when we were sitting eight or ten of us together 
in your rooms at Girton ; but when it comes to putting them into 
execution one sees things in rather a different light. I quite 
agree with our theories and I hope to live up to them, as far as 
I can, but it seems to me much easier to put the theories into 
practice in a general way than in individual cases. A clerg}^- 
man can denounce faults from the pulpit without giving olfence 
to anyone, but if he were to take one of his congregation aside 
and rebuke him, I don’t think the experiment would be suc- 
cessful.” 

“ Nathan said unto David, thou art the man.” 

“ Yes, my dear, but you will excuse my saying that at present 
you have scarcely attained the position of Nathan.” 

Mary Brander laughed. 

“ Well, no, but you see Cuthbert Hartington is not a stranger. 
I have known him ever since I can remember, and used to like 
him very much, though he did delight in teasing me ; but I have 


26 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


been angry with him for a long time, and though I had forgotten 
it, I remember I did tell him my mind last time I saw him. 
You see his father is a dear old man, quite the beau-ideal of a 
country squire, and there he is all alone in his big house while 
his son chooses to live up in London. I have heard my father 
and mother say over and over again that he ought to be at 
home taking his place in the county instead of going on his 
own way, and I have heard other ladies say the same.” 

“ Perhaps mothers with marriageable daughters, Mary,” 
Anna Treadwyn said with a smile, “but 1 don’t really see why 
you should be so severe on him for going his own way. You are 
yourself doing so without, I fancy, much deference to your 
parents’ opinions, and besides I have heard you many a time 
rail against the soullessness of the conversation and the gossip 
and tittle-tattle of society in country towns, meaning in your 
case in Abchester, and should, therefore, be the last to blame 
him for revolting against it.” 

“ You forget, Anna,” Mary said, calmly, “ that the cases are 
altogether different. He goes his way with the mere selfish 
desire to amuse himself. I have set, what I believe to be a 
great and necessary aim before me. I don’t pretend that there 
is any sacrifice in it, on the contrary it is a source of pleasure 
and satisfaction to devote myself to the mission of helping my 
sex to regain its independence, and to take up the position 
which it has a right to.” 

“ Of course we are both agreed on that, my dear, we only 
differ in the best way of setting about it.” 

“ 1 don’t suppose Mr. Hartington will take what I said to 
heart,” Mary replied serenely, “ and if he does it is a matter of 
entire indifference to me.” 

The subject of their conversation certainly showed no signs 
of taking the matter to heart. He smiled as he resumed his 
work. 

“ She is just what she used to be,” he said to himself. “ She 
was always terribly in earnest. My father was saying last time 
I was down that he had learned from Brander that she had 
taken up all sorts of Utopian notions about women’s rights and 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


27 


SO on, and was going to spend two years abroad, to get up her 
case, I suppose. She has grown very pretty. She was very 
pretty as a child, though of course last time I saw her she was 
at the gawky age. She is certainly turning the tables on me, 
and she hit me hard with that stale old Latin quotation. I 
must admit it was wonderfully apt. She has a good eye for 
dress ; it is not many girls that can stand those severely plain 
lines, but they suit her figure and face admirably. 1 must get 
her and her friend to sit on a rock and let me put them into the 
foreground of one of my sketches; funny meeting her here, 
however, it will be an amusement.” 

After that it became a regular custom for the two girls to 
stop as they came along the shore for a chat with Cuthbert, 
sometimes sitting down on the rocks for an hour ; their stay, 
however, being not unfrequently cut short by Mary getting up 
with heightened color and going off abruptly. It was Cuthbert’s 
chief amusement to draw her out on her favorite subject, and 
although over and over again she told herself angrily that she 
would not discuss it with him, she never could resist falling into 
the snares Cuthbert laid for her. She would not have minded had 
he argued seriously with her, but this was just what he did not 
do, either laughing at her theory, or replying to her arguments 
with a mock seriousness that irritated her far more than his 
open laughter. 

Anna Treadwyn took little part in the discussions, but sat 
an amused listener. Mary had been the recognized leader of 
her set at Girton ; her real earnestness and the fact that she 
intended to go abroad to fit herself the better to carry out her 
theories, but making her a power among the others. Much as 
Anna liked and admired her, it amused her greatly to see her 
entangled in the dilemma, into which Cuthbert led her, occa- 
sionally completely posing her by his laughing objections. Of 
an evening Cuthbert often went up to Porthalloc, where he w'as 
warmly welcomed by Anna’s mother, whose heart he won by 
the gentle and deferential manner that rendered him universally 
popular among the ladies of the families of his artist friends. 
She would sit smilingly by when the conflicts of the morning 


28 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


were sometimes renewed, for she saw with satisfaction that 
Anna at least was certainly impressed with Cuthbert’s argu- 
ments and banter, and afforded very feeble aid to Mary Brander 
in her defence of their opinions. 

“ I feel really obliged to you, Mr. Hartington,’' she said one 
evening, when the two girls happened to be both out of the 
room when he arrived, “ for laughing Anna out of some of the 
ideas she brought back from Girton. At one time these gave 
me a great deal of concern, for my ideas are old-fashioned, and 
I consider a woman’s mission is to cheer and brighten her hus- 
band’s home, to be a good wife and a good mother, and to be 
content with the position God has assigned to her as being her 
right and proper one. However, I have always hoped and be- 
lieved that she would grow out of her new-fangled ideas, which 
I am bound to say she never carried to the extreme that her 
friend does. The fact that I am somewhat of an invalid and 
that it is altogether impossible for her to carry out such a plan 
as Miss Brander has sketched for herself, and that there is no 
opportunity whatever for her to get up a propaganda in this 
quiet little Cornish town, has encouraged that hope ; she her- 
self has said but little on the subject since she came home, 
and I think your fights with Miss Brander will go far to com- 
plete her cure.” 

“ It is ridiculous from beginning to end,” Cuthbert said, 
“ but it is natural enough. It is in just the same way that some 
young fellows start in life with all sorts of wild radical notions, 
and settle down in middle age into moderate Liberals, if not 
into contented Conservatives. The world is good enough in 
its way and at any rate if it is to get better it will be by gradual 
progress and not by individual effort. There is much that is 
very true in Miss Brander’s views that things might be better 
than they are, it is only with her idea that she has a mission to 
set them right that I quarrel. Earnestness is no doubt a good 
thing, but too much of it is a misfortune rather than an advan- 
tage. No doubt I am prejudiced,” he laughed, “ because I am 
afraid that I have no particle of it in my composition. Circum- 
stances have been against its growth, and there is no saying 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


29 


what I might be if they were to change. At present, at any 
rate, I have never felt the want of it, but I can admire it among 
others even though I laugh at it.” 

A month passed, and Wilson and his two companions moved 
further along the coast in search of fresh subjects, but Cuth- 
bert declined to accompany them, declaring that he found him- 
self perfectly comfortable where he was, at which his companions 
all laughed, but made no attempt to persuade him further. 

“ Do you know, Mary,” Anna said, a few days later, “ you 
and Mr. Hartington remind me strongly of Beatrice and 
Benedict.” 

“ What do you mean, Anna ? ” Mary asked, indignantly. 

“ Nothing, my dear,” Anna replied, demurely, “ except that 
you are perpetually quarrelling.” 

“We may be that,” Mary said, shortly, “but we certainly 
shall not arrive at the same kind of conclusion to our quarrel.” 

“ You might do worse, Mary ; Mr. Hartington is charming. 
My mother, who is not given to general admiration, says he is 
one of the most delightful men that she ever met. He is heir 
to a good estate, and unless I am greatly mistaken, the idea has 
occurred to him if not to you. I thought so before, but have 
been convinced of it since he determined to remain here while 
those men he was with have all gone away.” 

“ You will make me downright angry with you, Anna, if you 
talk such nonsense,” Mary said, severely. “You know very 
well that I have always made up mind that nothing shall induce 
me to marry and give up my freedom, at any rate for a great 
many years, and then only to a man who will see life as I do, 
become my co-worker and allow me my independence. Mr. 
Hartington is the last man I should choose ; he has no aim or 
purpose whatever, and he would ruin my life as well as his own. 
No, thank you. However, I am convinced that you are alto- 
gether mistaken, and Cuthbert Hartington would no more 
dream of asking me to be his wife than I should of taking him 
for a husband — the idea is altogether preposterous.” 

However, a week later, Cuthbert, on going up to Porthalloc 
one morning, and catching sight of Mary Brander in the 


30 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


garden by herself, joined her there and astonished her by show- 
ing that Anna was not mistaken in her view. He commenced 
abruptly — 

“ Do you know, Miss Brander, I have been thinking over your 
arguments, and I have come to the conclusion that woman has 
really a mission in life. Its object is not precisely that which 
you have set yourself, but it is closely allied to it, my view being 
that her mission is to contribute to the sum of human happiness 
by making one individual man happy ! ” 

“ Do you mean, is it possible that you can mean, that you 
think woman’s mission is to marry ? ” she asked, with scorn, 
“ are you going back to that ? ” 

“ That is entirely what I meant, but it is a particular case I 
was thinking of, rather than a general one. I was thinking of 
your case and mine. I do not say that you might not do some- 
thing towards adding to the happiness of mankind, but mankind 
are not yearning for it. On the other hand I am sure that you 
could make me happy, and I am yearning for that kind of hap- 
piness.” 

“ Are you really in earnest, Mr. Hartington ? ” 

“Quite in earnest, very much so; in the six weeks that I 
have been here I have learnt to love you, and to desire, more 
earnestly certainly than I have ever desired anything before, 
that you should be my wife. I know that you do not credit me 
with any great earnestness of purpose, but I am quite earnest in 
this. I do love you, Mary.” 

“ I am sorry to hear it, and am surprised, really and truly 
surprised. I thought you disapproved of me altogether, but I 
did think you gave me credit for being sincere. It is clear you 
did not, or you could not suppose that I would give up all my 
plans before even commencing them. I like you very much, 
Cuthbert, though I disapprove of you as much as I thought you 
disapproved of me ; but if ever I do marry, and I hope I shall 
never be weak enough to do so, it must be to someone who has 
the same views of life that I have ; but I feel sure that I shall 
never love anyone if love is really what one reads of in books, 
where woman is always ready to sacrifice her whole life and her 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


31 


whole plans to a man who graciously accepts the sacrifice as a 
matter of course.” 

“ I was afraid that that would be your answer,” he said 
gravely. “ And yet I was not disposed to let the chance of 
happiness go without at least knowing that it was so. I can 
quite understand that you do not even feel that I am really in 
earnest. So small did I feel my chances were, that I should 
have waited for a time before I risked almost certain refusal, 
had it not been that you are on the point of going abroad for 
two years. And two years is a long time to v;ait when one feels 
that one’s chance is very small at the end of that time. Well, 
it is of no use saying anything more about it. I may as well 
say good-bye at once, for I shall pack up and go. Good-bye, 
dear ; I hope that you are wrong, and that some day you will 
make some man worthy of you happy, but when the time comes 
remember that I prophesy that he will not in the slightest degree 
resemble the man you picture to yourself now. I think that 
the saying that extremes meet is truer than those that assert 
that like meets like ; but whoever he is I hope that he will 
be someone who will make you as happy as I should have tried 
to do.” 

“ Good-bye, Cuthbert,” she said, frankly, “ I think this has 
all been very silly, and I hope that by the time we meet again 
you will have forgotten all about it.” 

There was something in his face, as she looked up into it, that 
told her what she had before doubted somewhat, that he had 
been really in earnest for once in his life, and she added, “ I 
do hope we shall be quite good friends when we meet again, 
and that you will then see I am quite right about this.” 

He smiled, gave her a little nod, and then dropping her hand 
sauntered into the house. 

“ It is the most foolish thing I have ever heard of,” she said 
to herself, pettishly, as she looked after him. “ I can’t think how 
such an idea ever occurred to him. He must have known that 
even if I had not determined as I have done to devote myself 
to our cause, he was the last sort of man I should ever have 
thought of marrying. Of course he is nice and I always thought 


32 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


so, but what is niceness when he has no aims, no ambitions 
in life, and he is content to waste it as he is doing.” 

Five minutes later Anna Treadwyn joined her in the garden. 

“ So I was right after all, Mary ? ” 

“ How do you know, do you mean to say that he has told 
you ? ” 

‘‘ Not exactly, but one can use one’s eyes, I suppose. He 
said nothing last night about going away, and now he is leav- 
ing by this afternoon’s coach ; besides, although he laughed 
and talked as usual one could see with half an eye that it was 
forced. So you have actually refused him ? ” 

“ Of course I have, how can you ask such a question ? It 
was the most perfectly absurd idea I ever heard of.” 

“ Well, I hope that you will never be sorry for it, Mary.” 

“ There is not much fear of that,” Mary said, with a toss of 
her head, “ and let me say that it is not very polite, either of 
you or him, to think that I should be ready to give up all my 
plans in life, the first time I am asked, and that by a gentle- 
man who has not the slightest sympathy with them. It is a 
very silly and tiresome affair altogether, and I do hope I shall 
never hear anything of it again.” 


CHAPTER III. 

CuTHBERT Hartington had been back in town but two days 
when he received a letter from Mr. Brander apprising him of 
the sudden death of his father. It was a terrible shock, for he 
had no idea whatever that Mr. Hartington was in any way out 
of health. Cuthbert had written only the day before to say 
that he should be down at the end of the week, for indeed he 
felt unable to settle down to his ordinary course of life in Lon- 
don. He at once sent off a telegram ordering the carriage to 
meet him by the evening train, and also one to Mr. Brander 
begging him to be at the house if possible when he ar- 
rived. 

Upon hearing from the lawyer that his father had been aware 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


33 


that he might be carried off at any moment by heart disease, 
but that he had strictly forbidden the doctor and himself 
writing to him, or informing anyone of the circumstances, he 
said — 

“ It is just like my father, but I do wish it had not been so. 
I might have been down with him for the last three months of 
his life.” 

“ The Squire went on just in his usual way, Cuthbert. I am 
sure that he preferred it so. He shrunk, as he said, from know- 
ing that people he met were aware that his days were num- 
bered, and even with me after our first conversation on the sub- 
ject, he made no allusion whatever to it. He was as cheery and 
bright as ever, and when I last met him a week ago, even I who 
knew the circumstances, could see no difference whatever in his 
manner. I thought he was wrong, at first, but I came to the con- 
clusion afterwards that his decision was not an unwise one. 
He spared you three months of unavailing pain ; he had no fear 
of death, and was able to go about as before to meet his friends 
without his health being a subject of discussion, and in all ways 
to go on as usual until the call came. His death was evidently 
painless ; he sat down in his easy arm-chair after lunch for his 
usual half-hour’s nap, and evidently expired in his sleep. The 
servant found him, as he believed, still asleep when he came 
in to tell him that the carriage was at the door, and it was only 
on touching him he discovered what had happened. They sent 
the carriage off at once to fetch Dr. Edwards. He looked in at 
my office and took me over with him, and I got back in time to 
write to you.” 

The shock that the Squire’s sudden death caused in Ab- 
chester, was, a fortnight later, obliterated by the still greater 
sensation caused by the news that the bank had put up its 
shutters. The dismay excited thereby was heightened when it 
became known that the manager had disappeared, and reports 
got about that the losses of the bank had been enormous. The 
first investigation into its affairs more than confirmed the worst 
rumors. For years it had been engaged in propping up the 
firm not only of Mildrake and Co., which had failed to meet its 
3 


34 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


engagements on the day preceding the announcement of the 
bank’s failure, but of three others which had broken down imme- 
diately afterwards. In all of these firms Mr. Gumming was 
found to have had a large interest. 

On the day after the announcement of the failure of the bank, 
Mr. Brander drove up to Fairclose. He looked excited and 
anxious when he went into the room where Cuthbert was 
sitting, listlessly, with a book before him. 

“ I have a piece of very bad news to tell you, Mr. Harting- 
ton,” he said. 

“ Indeed ? ” Cuthbert said, without any very great interest in 
his voice. 

“ Yes ; I daresay you heard yesterday of the failure of the 
bank .? ” 

“ Dr. Edwards looked in here as he was driving past to tell 
me of it. Had we any money in it ? ” 

“ I wish that was all, it is much worse than that, sir. Your 
father was a shareholder in the bank.” 

“ He never mentioned it to me,” Cuthbert said, his air of 
indifference still unchanged. 

“ He only bought shares a comparatively short time ago, I 
think it was after you were here the last time. There were 
some vague rumors afloat as to the credit of the bank, and 
your father, who did not believe them, took a few shares as a 
proof of his confidence in it, thinking, he said, that the fact that 
he did so might allay any feeling of uneasiness.” 

“ I wonder that you allowed him to invest in bank shares, 
Mr. Brander.” 

“ Of course I should not have done so if I had had the 
slightest idea that the bank was in difficulties, but I was in no 
way behind the scenes. I transacted their legal business for 
them in the way of drawing up mortgages, investigating titles, 
and seeing to the purchase and sales of property here in the 
county ; beyond that I knew nothing of their affairs. I was not 
consulted at all in the matter. Your father simply said to me, 
‘ I see that the shares in the bank have dropped a little, and I 
hear there are some foolish reports as to its credit ; I think as 


A GIRL OF THF COMMUNE. 35 

a county gentleman I ought to support the County Bank, and I 
wish you to buy say fifty shares for me.’ ” 

“ That was just like my father,” Cuthbert said, admiringly, 
“ he always thought a great deal of his county, and I can quite 
understand his acting as he did. Well, they were ten pound 
shares, I think, so it is only five hundred gone at the worst.” 

“ I am afraid you don’t understand the case,” Mr. Brander 
said, gravely; “each and every shareholder is responsible for 
the debts of the bank to the full extent of his property, and 
although I earnestly hope that only the bank’s capital has been 
lost, I can’t disguise from you that in the event of there being 
a heavy deficiency it will mean ruin to several of the share- 
holders.” 

“ That is bad, indeed,” Cuthbert said, thoroughly interested 
now. “ Of course you have no idea at present of what the state 
of the bank is.” 

“ None whatever, but I hope for the best. I am sorry to say 
I heard a report this morning that Mr. Hislop, who was, as 
you know, the chairman of the bank, had shot himself, which, 
if true, will, of course, intensify the feeling of alarm among the 
shareholders.” 

Cuthbert sat silent for some time. 

“ Well,” he said, at last, “ this is sudden news, but if things 
areas bad as possible, and Fairclose and all the estate go, I 
shall be better off than many people. I shall have that five 
thousand pounds that came to me by my mother’s settlement, 
I suppose ? ” 

“ Yes, no doubt. The shares have not been transferred to 
my name as your father’s executor. I had intended when I 
came up next week to go through the accounts with you, to rec- 
ommend you to instruct me to dispose of them at once, which 
I should have done in my capacity of executor without trans- 
ferring them in the first place to you. Therefore, any claim 
there may be will lie against the estate and not against you 
personally.” 

“ That is satisfactory anyhow,” Cuthbert said, calmly. “ I 
don’t know how I should get on without it. Of course I shall 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


36 

be sorry to lose this place, but in some respects the loss will be 
almost a relief to me. A country life is not my vocation, and I 
have been wondering for the last fortnight what on earth I 
should do with myself. As it is, I shall, if it comes to the worst, 
be obliged to work. I never have worked because I never have 
been forced to do so, but really I don’t know that the prospects 
are altogether unpleasant, and at any rate I am sure that I would 
rather be obliged to paint for my living than to pass my life in 
trying to kill time.” 

The lawyer looked keenly at his client, but he saw that he 
was really speaking in earnest, and that his indifference at the 
risk of the loss of his estates was unaffected. 

“ Well,” he said, after a pause, “ I am glad indeed that you 
take it so easily ; of course, I hope most sincerely that things 
may not be anything like so bad as that, and that, at worst, a 
call of only a few pounds a share will be sufficient to meet any 
deficiency that may exist, still I am heartily glad to see that you 
are prepared to meet the event in such a spirit, for to most men 
the chance of such a calamity would be crushing.” 

“ Possibly I might have felt it more if it had come upon me 
two or three years later, just as I had got to be reconciled to the 
change of life, but you see I have so recently and unexpectedly 
come into the estate that I have not even begun to appreciate 
the pleasures of possession or to feel that they weigh in the 
slightest against the necessity of my being obliged to give up 
the life I have been leading for years. By the bye,” he went 
on, changing the subject carelessly, “how is your daughter 
getting on in Germany ? I happened to meet her at Newquay 
three weeks ago, and she told me she was going out there in the 
course of a week or so. I suppose she has gone.” 

“ Yes, she has gone,” Mr. Brander said, irritably. “ She is 
just as bent as you were, if you will permit me to say so, on 
the carrying out of her own scheme of life. It is a great annoy- 
ance to her mother and me, but argument has been thrown 
away upon her, and as unfortunately the girls have each a 
couple of thousand, left under their own control by their mother’s 
sister, she was in a position to do as she liked. However, I 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


37 

hope that a year or two will wean her from the ridiculous ideas 
'^he has taken up.” 

“ I should doubt whether her cure will be as prompt as you 
think, it seemed to me that her ideas were somewhat fixed, and 
it will need a good deal of failure to disillusionize her.” 

“ She is as obstinate as a little mule,” Mr. Brander said 
shortly. “ However, I must be going,” he went on, rising from 
his chair. “ I drove over directly I had finished my breakfast 
and must hurry back again to the office. Well, I hope with 
all my heart, Mr. Hartington, that this most unfortunate affair 
will not turn out so badly after all.” 

Cuthbert did not echo the sentiment, but accompanied his 
visitor silently to the door, and after seeing him off returned to 
the room, where he reseated himself in his chair, filled and 
lighted his pipe, put his legs on to another chair, and proceeded 
to think the matter out. 

It was certainly a wholly unexpected change ; but at present 
he did not feel it to be an unpleasant one, but rather a relief. 
He had for the last ten days been bemoaning himself. While 
but an heir apparent he could live his own life and take his 
pleasure as he liked. As owner of Fairclose he had duties to 
perform — he had his tenants’ welfare to look after, there would 
be the bailiff to interview every morning and to go into all 
sorts of petty details as to hedges and ditches, fences and re- 
pairs, and things he cared not a jot for, interesting as they 
were to his dear old father. He supposed he should have to go 
on the Bench and to sit for hours listening to petty cases of 
theft and drunkenness, varied only by a poaching affray at long 
intervals. 

There would be county gatherings to attend, and he would 
naturally be expected to hunt and to shoot. It had all seemed 
to him inexpressedly dreary. Now all that was, if Brander’s 
fears were realized, at an end, even if it should not turn out to 
be as bad as that, the sum he would be called upon to pay might 
be sufficient to cripple the estate and to afford him a good and 
legitimate excuse for shutting up or letting the house, and go- 
ing away to retrench until the liabilities were all cleared off. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


38 

Of course he would have to work in earnest now, but even the 
thought of that was not altogether unpleasant. 

“ I believe it is going to be the best thing that ever happened 
to me,” he said to himself. “ I know that I should never have 
done anything if it hadn’t been for this, and though I am not 
fool enough to suppose I am ever going, to turn out anything 
great, I am sure that after a couple of years’ hard work I ought 
to paint decently, and anyhow to turn out as good things as 
some of those men. It is just what I have always been want- 
ing, though I did not know it. I am afraid I shall have to cut 
all those dear old fellows, for I should never be able to give 
myself up to work among them. I should say it would be best 
for me to go over to Paris ; I can start on a fresh groove there. 
At my age I should not like to go through any of the schools 
here. I might have three months with Terrier ; that would be 
just the thing to give me a good start ; he is a good fellow but 
one who never earns more than bread and cheese. 

“ There isn’t a man in our set who really knows as much 
about it as he does. He has gone through our own schools, 
was a year at Paris, and another at Rome. He has got the 
whole thing at his fingers’ ends, and would make a splendid 
master if he would but go in for pupils, but with all that he 
can’t paint a picture. He has not a spark of imagination, nor 
an idea of art ; he has no eye for color, or effect. He can 
paint admirably what he sees, but then he sees nothing but bare 
facts. He is always hard up, poor fellow, and it would be a 
real boon to him to take me for three months and stick at it 
hard with me, and by the end of that time I ought to be able 
to take my place in some artist’s school in Paris without feeling 
myself to be an absolute duffer among a lot of fellows younger 
than myself. By Jove, this news is like a breeze on the east 
coast in summer — a little sharp, perhaps, but splendidly brac- 
ing and healthy, just the thing to set a fellow up and make a 
man of him. I will go out for a walk and take the dogs with 
me.” 

He got up, went to the stables, and unchained the dogs, who 
leapt round him in wild delight, for the time of late had been 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


39 


as dull for them as for him ; told one of the stable boys to go 
to the house and say that he would not be back to lunch, and 
then went for a twenty mile walk over the hills, and returned 
somewhat tired with the unaccustomed exertion, but with a 
feeling of buoyancy and light-heartedness such as he had not 
experienced for a long time past. For the next week he re- 
mained at home, and then feeling too restless to do so any 
longer, went to town, telling Mr. Brander to let him know as 
soon as the committee, that had already commenced its inves- 
tigations into the real state of the bank’s affairs, made their 
first report. 

The lawyer was much puzzled over Cuthbert’s manner. It 
seemed to him utterly impossible that anyone should really be 
indifferent to losing a fine estate, and yet he could see no reason 
for Cuthbert’s assuming indifference on so vital a subject unless 
he felt it. He even discussed the matter with his wife. 

“ I cannot understand that young Hartington,” he said ; “ most 
men would have been completely crumpled up at the news I 
gave him, but he took it as quietly as if it had been a mere 
bagatelle. The only possible explanation of his indifference 
that I can think of is that he must have made some low mar- 
riage in London, and does not care about introducing his wife 
to the county ; it is just the sort of thing that a man with his 
irregular Bohemian habits might do — a pretty model, perhaps, 
or some peasant girl he has come across when out sketching.” 

‘‘ He never did care particularly about anything,” Mrs. 
Brander said, “ and it may be he is really glad to get away 
from the country.” 

“ That would be possible enough if he had a good income in 
addition to Fairclose, but all that he will have is that five 
thousand that came to him from his mother, and I should say 
he is likely enough to run through that in a couple of years at 
the outside, and then where will he be ? ” 

“I can’t think, Jeremiah, how you ever permitted his father 
to do such a mad thing as to take those shares.” 

“ I know what I am doing, my dear, don’t you worry yourself 
about that. You have been wanting me for a very long time to 


40 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


give up business and go into the country. How would Fair- 
close suit you ? ” 

“ You are not in earnest,” she exclaimed, with an excitement 
very unusual to her. “ You can’t mean that ? ” 

“ I don’t often say what I don’t mean, my dear, and if Fair- 
close comes into the market, more unlikely things than that 
may come to pass ; but mind, not a word of this is to be 
breathed.” 

“ And do you really think it will come into the market } ” she 
asked. 

“As certain as the sun will rise to-morrow morning. We 
only held our first meeting to-day, but that was enough to show 
us that the directors ought all to be shut up in a lunatic asylum. 
The affairs of the bank are in a frightful state, simply frightful ; 
it means ruin to every one concerned.” 

“ It is fortunate, indeed, that you did not hold any shares, 
Jeremiah.” 

“ I was not such a fool,” he said, shortly, “ as to trust my 
money in the hands of a body of men who were all no doubt 
excellent fellows and admirable county gentlemen, but who 
knew no more of business than babies, and who would be mere 
tools in the hands of their manager ; and I had the excellent excuse 
that I considered the legal adviser of a bank should have no 
pecuniary stake whatever in its affairs, but be able to act 
altogether without bias.” 

There was an ironical smile on his lips, and his wife said, 
admiringly — 

“ How clever you are, Jeremiah.” 

“ It did not require much cleverness for that,” he said, with 
some complacency. “ You can reserve your compliments, my 
dear, until we are established atFairclose. All I ask is that you 
won’t ask any questions or allude to the matter until it is settled, 
but leave it entirely in my hands. So far things are working in 
the right direction.” 

“Perhaps it will be a good thing for Cuthbert Hartington 
after all,” she said, after sitting for some minutes in silence. 

“ No doubt it will,” he said. “At any rate as he does not 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


41 


take it to heart in the slightest degree, we need not worry our- 
selves over him.” 

“ It is funny,” she said, “ but sometimes the idea has occurred 
to me that Cuthbert might some day take a fancy to one of our 
girls, and I might see one of them mistress at Fairclose ; but I 
never dreamt I might be mistress there myself, and I can’t 
guess, even now, how you can think of managing it.” 

“ Don’t you trouble to guess, at all, my dear ; be content with 
the plum when it falls into your mouth, and don’t worry your- 
self as to how I manage to shake the tree to bring the fruit down.” 

Three weeks later it became known definitely that after call- 
ing up the remainder of the bank’s capital there would be a 
deficiency of nearly a million, and that every shareholder would 
be called upon to contribute to the full extent of his ability, to 
cover the losses. One or two letters from Mr. Brander had 
already prepared Cuthbert for the final result of the investiga- 
tion, and he had already begun to carry out the plan he had 
marked out for himself. He had, as soon as he had returned, 
astonished his friends by informing them that he found that 
instead of coming into his father’s estates, as he had expected, 
it was not likely he would ever touch a penny from them, as his 
father had been a shareholder in the Abchester Bank, and so 
he believed everything would be swept away. 

“ Fortunately,” he went on, “ I have got enough of my own 
to keep my head above water, and, I dare say you fellows won’t 
believe me, but I mean to go to work in earnest.” 

The announcement was made to a dozen men who were 
smoking in Wilson’s studio, he having returned the day before 
from Cornwall. 

“ Well, youngster, I won’t commiserate with you,” he growled. 
“ I have been wondering since I heard from King last night 
what had kept you away, what on earth you would do with 
yourself now you have come into your money. I often thought 
it was the worst thing in the world for you that you had not got 
to work, and if you are really going to set to now, I believe the 
time will come when you will think that this misfortune is the 
best thing that ever happened to you.” 


42 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ I am not quite sure that I do not think so already,” Cuthbert 
replied. “ I am not at all disposed to fancy myself a martyr, 
I can assure you. I mean to go over to Paris and enter an Art 
School there. I know what you fellows are. You would never 
let me work.” 

There was a general chorus of indignation. 

“ Well, how much do you work yourselves ? You potter about 
for nine months in the year, and work for four or five hours a 
day for the other three.” 

“ Saul among the prophets ! ” Wilson exclaimed. “ The idea 
of Cuthbert Hartington rebuking us for laziness is rich indeed,” 
and a roar of laughter showed the general appreciation of the 
absurdity. 

“Never mind,” Cuthbert said, loftily. “You ‘will see; ‘from 
morn till dewy eve,’ will be my idea of work. It is the way 
you men loaf, and call it working, that has so far kept me from 
setting to. Now I am going to burst the bonds of the Castle 
of Indolence, and when I come back from Paris I shall try to 
stir you all up to something like activity.” 

There was another laugh, and then Wilson said, “ Well, it is 
the best thing you can do to go abroad. I don’t believe you 
would ever make a fresh start here.” 

“ I have made fresh a start, Wilson ; our respected brother 
Terrier here, has undertaken to teach me the rudiments, and 
for the next three months his studio doors will be closed to all 
visitors from ten to five.” 

“ Is that so ? I congratulate you, Cuthbert ; that really looks 
like business, and if Terrier can’t teach you how to use the 
brush and put on color no one can. Gentlemen, we will drink 
the health of the new boy. Here is to Cuthbert Hartington, 
and success to him.” Glasses were raised and the sentiment 
heartily echoed. 

For three months Cuthbert worked steadily ; to his own sur- 
prise, not less than to that of his instructor, he found the hours 
none too long for him. During that time he had received a letter 
from Mr. Brander that surprised him. 

“ Dear Mr. Hartington, — In accordance with your instructions 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


43 


I at once informed the Receiver of the bank that you were 
prepared to hand over the Fairclose estates for the benefit of the 
creditors, instead of waiting for the calls to be made, and 
that you wished the matter to be arranged as speedily as pos- 
sible as you were shortly going abroad. The necessary deeds 
will in a few days be prepared. You will doubtless be sur- 
prised to hear that I have arranged with the Receiver for the 
purchase of the estates by private treaty. I have long been 
intending to retire from business, and have been on the look- 
out for an estate in the county. I hope this arrangement 
will not be displeasing to you.” 

As Mr. Brander had the reputation of being a wealthy man, 
and his wife’s wishes that he should retire from business and 
purchase an estate in the county were public property, Cuth- 
bert was not surprised, but at the same time he was not altogether 
pleased. He had never liked the lawyer. He had no par- 
ticular grounds for not doing so, but he had as a boy an in- 
stinctive notion that he was a humbug. 

“ I wonder,” he said to himself, “ whether he has all along 
had an eye to Fairclose, and whether he really did his best to 
dissuade my father from making that disastrous investment. 
At any rate, it does not make any difference to me who is there. 
It might have been some stranger, some manufacturing fellow ; 
I would rather think of Mary being at the old place than 
a man of that sort. He would have been more likely than 
Brander to be hard on the tenants, and to have sold off all the 
things and have turned the place inside out. I don’t say that 
under ordinary circumstances I should choose Brander as a 
landlord, but he will know well enough that there would be 
nothing that would do him more harm in the county than 
a report that he was treating the Squire’s tenants harshly. 
Well, I suppose I had better write him a line saying that I am 
glad to hear that he has bought the place, as I would naturally 
prefer that it should be in his hands than those of a stranger.” 

A fortnight later, Cuthbert, in looking over the “ Abchester 
Guardian,” which was sent to him weekly, as the subscription 
was not yet run out, read the following paragraph : “ We under- 


44 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


stand that our greatly respected townsman, Mr. J. Brander, has 
purchased the house and estate of Fairclose, which has come into 
the market owing to the failure of the Abchester Bank, in which 
the late Mr. Hartington was most unfortunately a shareholder, 
and which has involved hundreds of families in ruin. The 
greatest sympathy is everywhere expressed for Mr. Cuthbert 
Hartington. We understand that the price given by Mr. 
Brander was ;£*55,ooo. We believe that we are correct in stat- 
ing that Mr. Brander was the holder of a mortgage of 5,000 
on the estate.” 

“Mortgage for ;^i5,ooo,” Cuthbert repeated, “impossible. 
Why should my father have mortgaged the place He could have 
no occasion to raise the money. His tastes were most simple, 
and I am sure that he never lived beyond his income. He paid 
me a handsome allowance, but, thank God, I never exceeded it. 
What in the world can this mean ! I will write to Brander at 
once. No, I won’t, I will write to the liquidator. If there was 
such a thing he is certain to have looked into it closely, for it 
was so much off the sum available for assets.” 

By return of post Cuthbert received the following letter : 

“ Dear Mr. Hartington, — In reply to your question I beg to 
confirm the statement in the newspaper cutting you send to me. 
Mr. Brander was the holder of a mortgage for ^15,000 on your 
father’s estate. I looked into the matter very closely, as it 
came as a surprise upon us. Everything was in proper order. 
Mr. Brander’s bank-book showed that he drew out 5,000 on 
the date of the mortgage, and the books of the bank confirm 
his book. Notice had been given to them a week previously 
that he would require that sum in notes and gold, and it was so 
paid over to him. His books also show payment of the interest, 
and his receipts for the same were found among Mr. Hartington’s 
papers. There was, therefore, no shadow of a doubt possible 
as to the genuine nature of the mortgage. — Yours truly, W. H. 
Cox.” 

Although satisfied that for some reason or other his father 
had borrowed this sum on mortgage from his lawyer, Cuthbert 
was no less puzzled than before as to the purpose for which it 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


45 

had been raised, or what his father could possibly have done 
with the money. He, therefore, wrote 1o Mr. Brander, saying 
that though it was a matter in which he had himself no pe- 
cuniary interest, he should be glad if he would inform him of 
the circumstance which led his father to borrow such a sum. 

“ I thought,” he said, “ that I knew everything about my 
father’s money affairs, for he always spoke most openly about 
them to me, and he never let drop a word as to the mortgage 
or as to any difficulty in which he had involved himself, or any 
investment he had thought of making; and I am, therefore, en- 
tirely at a loss to understand how he could have required such 
a sum of money.” 

The lawyer’s answer came in due course. 

“ My dear Mr. Hartingon, — I was in no way surprised at the 
receipt of your letter, and indeed have been expecting an 
inquiry from you as to the mortgage. It happened in this way: 
Some three years ago your father said to me, ‘ I want to raise 
;^i 5,000 on the estate, Brander.’ I was naturally greatly 
surprised, for acting for him as I did, I was, of course, aware 
that he lived well wuthin his income. He went on, ‘ Of course 
you are surprised, Brander, but as you must know well most 
men have a skeleton in a cupboard somewhere I have one, 
and as I am getting on in life I want to bury it for good. It 
makes no difference to you what it is, and I have no intention 
of going into the matter. It suffices that I want ;^i 5,000.’ ‘ Of 

course there is no difficulty about that, sir,’ I said, ‘ the estate 
is unencumbered, and as there is no entail you are free to do 
with it as you like. ‘ But I want it done quietly,’ he said, ‘ I 
don’t want it talked about that I have mortgaged Fairclose. 
The best plan by far would be for you to do it yourself, which I 
have no doubt you can do easily enough if you like.’ I said 
that I would much rather have nothing to do with it, as I have 
always considered it a mistake for lawyers to become principals 
in money transactions with their clients, and had always refused 
to do anything of the sort. However, he put the matter so 
strongly that he at last induced me, against my better judgment, 
to consent to advance the money, and at his earnest request I 


46 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


handed him the money in notes, so that no one, even at the bank, 
should be aware that such a sum had passed between us. Of 
course the mortgage was drawn up in the usual form and duly 
executed and witnessed, and I have no doubt that the liquh 
dator of the bank will be happy to show you your father’s 
receipt for the money and the receipts given by me to him 
for the interest. As you say the matter does not pecuniarily 
affect you now, but at the same time I am naturally anxious you 
should satisfy yourself thoroughly that the transaction was in 
every respect a bona fide one.” 

Cuthbert sat for some time with the letter before him. 

“ I suppose the dear old dad must have got into some scrape 
or other years ago,” he said to himself. “ What it was it is no 
use wondering, still less inquiring about. I am surprised he 
never told me, but I suppose he could not wind himself up to 
the point, and I have no doubt he intended to tell me some day, 
and would have done so if he hadn’t been carried off so suddenly. 
Anyhow, he knew me well enough to be sure that when I heard 
of this mortgage, and learned how it had been done that my love 
and respect for him would be sufficient to prevent my trying to 
search into his past. He little thought that the mortgage would 
not affect me to the extent of a penny. Well, there is an end 
of it, and I won’t think any more about the matter — the secret 
is dead and buried ; let it rest there. And now it is time to be 
off to my work.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

A YEAR later Cuthbert Hartington was sitting in a room, some- 
what better furnished than the majority of the students’ lodg- 
ings, on the second floor of a house in Quartier Latin. The 
occupant of the room below, Arnold Dampierre, was with him. 
He was a man three or four years Cuthbert’s junior, handsome, 
grave-eyed, and slightly built ; he was a native of Louisiana, 
and his dark complexion showed a taint of Mulatto blood in 
his veins. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


47 


“ So you have made up your mind to stay,” he said, 

“ Certainly, I intend to see it through ; in the first place I 
don't want to break off my work, and as you know am ambitious 
enough to intend to get a couple of pictures finished in time 
for the Salon, although whether they will hang there, is another 
matter altogether.” 

“ Don’t pretend to be modest, Cuthbert. You know well 
enough they will be hung, and more than that, they will be a 
success. I would wager a hundred dollars to a cent on it, 
though you haven’t as yet settled on the subjects. You know 
that you are Goude’s favorite pupil and that he predicts great 
things for you, and there is not one of us who does not agree 
with him. You know what Goudd said of the last thing you 
did. ‘ Gentlemen, I should be proud to be able to sign my- 
name in the corner of this picture, it is admirable.’ ” 

“ It was but a little thing,” Cuthbert said, carelessly, but 
nevertheless coloring slightly, “ I hope to do much better work 
in the course of another year.” Then he went back to the 
former subject of conversation. 

“Yes, I shall see it through. We have had a good many ex- 
citements already — the march away of the troops, and the wild 
enthusiasm and the shouts of ‘ A Berlin ! ’ I don’t think there 
was a soul in the crowd who was not convinced that the Ger- 
mans were going to be crumpled up like a sheet of paper. It 
was disgusting to hear the bragging in the studio, and they 
were almost furious with me when I ventured to hint mildly 
that the Prussians were not fools, and would not have chosen 
this time to force France into a war if they had not felt that 
they were much better prepared for it than Napoleon was. 
Since then it has been just as exciting the other way — the 
stupor of astonishment, the disappointment and rage as news 
of each disaster came in ; then that awful business at Sedan, 
the uprising of the scum here, the flight of the Empress, the 
proclamation of the Republic, and the idiotic idea that seized 
the Parisians that the Republic was a sort of fetish, and that 
the mere fact of its establishment would arrest the march of 
the Germans. Well, now we are going to have a siege, I sup- 


48 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


pose, and as I have never seen one, it will be interesting. Of 
course I have no shadow of faith in the chattering newspaper 
men and lawyers, who have undertaken the government of 
France ; but they say Trochu is a good soldier, and Paris ought 
to be able to hold out for some time. The mobiles are pour- 
ing in, and I think they will fight well, especially the Bretons. 
Their officers are gentlemen, and though I am sure they would 
not draw a sword for the Republic, they will fight sturdily for 
France. I would not miss it for anything. I am not sure that 
I shan’t join one of the volunteer battalions myself.” 

“ You have nothing to do with the quarrel,” his companion 
said. 

“No, I have nothing to do with the quarrel; but if I were 
walking along the streets and saw a big lout pick a quarrel with 
a weaker one and then proceed to smash him up altogether, I 
fancy I should take a hand in the business. The Germans de- 
liberately forced on the war. They knew perfectly well that 
when they put up a German Prince as candidate for the throne 
of Spain it would bring on a war with France. Why, we our- 
selves were within an ace of going to war with France when 
Guizot brought about the Spanish marriage, although it was 
comparatively of slight importance to us that Spain and France 
should be united. But to the French this thing was an ab- 
solutely vital question, for with Germany and Spain united their 
very existence would be threatened, and they had nothing for 
it but to fight, as Germany knew they would have to do.” 

“ But the candidature was withdrawn, Hartington.” 

“Withdrawn ! ay, after the damage was done and France in 
a flame of indignation. If a man meets me in the street and 
pulls me by the nose, do you think that if he takes off his hat 
and bows and says that he withdraws the insult I am going to 
keep my hands in my pockets ? Twice already has France been 
humiliated and has stood it ? Once when Prussia made that 
secret treaty with Bavaria and Baden, and threw it scornfully 
in her face ; the second time over that Luxembourg affair. Does 
Germany think that a great nation, jealous of its honor and full 
of fiery elements, is going to stand being kicked as often as she 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


49 

chooses to kick her ? You may say that France was wrong in 
going to war when she was reaUy unprepared, and I grant she 
was unwise, but when a man keeps on insulting you, you don’t 
say to yourself I must go and take lessons in boxing before I 
fight him. You would hit out straight even if he were twice as 
big as yourself. That is what I feel about it, Dampierre, and 
feeling so I fancy that when the thing begins here I shall get 
too hot over it to help joining in. Ah, here come some of the 
lads.” 

There was a clatter of feet on the staircase, and a moment 
later half a dozen young Frenchmen ran in in a state of wild 
excitement. 

“ They have entered Versailles, a party of their horsemen 
have been seen from Valerian, and a shot has been fired at 
them. They have fled.” 

‘‘Well, I should think they naturally would,” Cuthbert said. 
“ A handful of horsemen are not likely to remain to be made 
targets of by the guns of Valerian.” 

“ It is the beginning of the end,” one of the students ex- 
claimed. “ Paris will assert herself, France will come to her 
assistance, and the Germans will find that it is one thing to 
fight against the armies of a despot, and another to stand 
before a free people in arms.” 

“ I hope so. Rend, but I own I have considerable doubts of 
it. A man when he begins to fight, fights because he is there 
and has got to do it. If he does not kill the enemy he will be 
killed ; if he does not thrash the enemy he will be thrashed ; and 
for the time being the question whether it is by a despot or by 
a Provisional Government that he is ruled does not matter to 
him one single jot. As to the Parisians, we shall see. I sin- 
cerely hope, they will do all that you expect of them, but in point 
of fact I would rather have a battalion of trained soldiers than 
a brigade of untrained peasants or citizens, however full of 
ardor they may be.” 

“ Ah, you English, it is always discipline, discipline.” 

“ You are quite right, Rene, that is when it comes to fighting 
in the open ; fighting in the streets of a town is a very different 
4 


5 ° 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUTE. 


thing. Then I grant individual pluck will do wonders. Look at 
Saragosa, look at Lucknow. Civilians in both cases fought as 
well as the best trained soldiers could do, but in the field dis- 
cipline is everything. Putting aside the great battles where 
your feudal lords, with their brave but undisciplined followers, 
met our disciplined bow and billmen, look at the Jacquerie, the 
peasants were brave enough, and were animated by hate and 
despair, but they were scattered like chaff by mere handfuls of 
knights and men-at-arms. The Swiss have defended their 
mountains against the armies of despots, because they had 
mountains to defend, and were accustomed to scaling the rocks, 
and all good shots, just as the people of a town might hold their 
streets. I believe that you will hold Paris. I doubt whether 
the Germans will ever be able to enter your walls, but famine 
will enter, and, defend yourselves as obstinately as you may, the 
time must come when food will give out.” 

“ As if we should wait to be starved,” another of the students 
said scoffingly. “ If the time comes when there’s nothing to 
eat, we would set Paris on fire and hurl ourselves every man 
upon the Germans, and fight our way through. Do you think 
that they could block every road round Paris ? ” 

“ I know nothing about military affairs, Leroux, and therefore 
don’t suppose anything one way or the other. I believe the 
Parisians will make a gallant defence, and they have my heart- 
iest good wishes and sympathy, and when all you men join the 
ranks my intention is to go with you. But as to the end, my 
belief is that it will be decided not by Paris but by France.” 

“ Bravo, bravo, Cuthbert,” the others exclaimed, “ that shows, 
indeed, that you love France. Rene said he thought you would 
shoulder a musket with us, but we said Englishmen only fought 
either for duty or interest, and we did not see why you should 
mix yourself up in it.” 

“ Then you are altogether wrong. If you said Englishmen 
don’t fight for what you call glory, you would be right, but you 
can take my word for it that in spite of what peace-at-any-price 
people may say, there are no people in the world who are more 
ready to fight when they think they are right, than Englishmen. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


51 

We find it hard enough to get recruits in time of peace, but 
in time of war we can get any number we want. The regiments 
chosen to go to the front are delighted, those who have to stay 
behind are furious. Glory has nothing to do with it. It is just 
the love of fighting. I don’t say that I am thinking of joining 
one of your volunteer battalions because I want to fight. I do 
so because I think you are in the right, and that this war has 
been forced upon you by the Germans, who are likely to inflict 
horrible sufferings on the city.” 

“ Never mind why you are going to fight,” Leroux said, “you 
are going to fight for us, and that is enough. You are a good 
comrade. And your friend, here, what is he going to do ? ” 

“ I shall join also,” Dampierre said. “ You are a Republic 
now, like our own, and of course my sympathies are wholly with 
you.” 

“ Vive la Republique ! Vive I’Americain ! ” the students 
shouted. 

Cuthbert Hartington shrugged his shoulders. 

“We were just starting for a stroll to the walls to see how 
they are getting on with the work of demolition. Are any of 
you disposed to go with us ? ” 

They were all disposed, being in so great a state of excitement 
that anything was better than staying indoors quietly. The 
streets were full of people, carts were rumbling along, some 
filled with provisions, others with the furniture and effects of the 
houses now being pulled down outside the eiiciente^ or from the 
villas and residences at Sevres Meudon and other suburbs and 
villages outside the line of defence. 

Sometimes they came upon battalions of newly-arrived mo- 
biles, who were loudly cheered by the populace as they marched 
along ; sturdy sunburnt peasants with but little of the bearing 
of soldiers, but with an earnest serious expression that seemed 
to say they would do their best against the foes who were the 
cause of their being torn away from their homes and occupa- 
tions. Staff officers galloped about at full speed ; soldiers of 
the garrison or of Vinoy’s Corps, who had come in a day or 
two before, lounged about the streets looking in at the shops. 


52 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


No small proportion of the male population wore kepis, which 
showed that they belonged either to the National Guard or to 
the battalions that were springing into existence. 

“ Why do we not register our names to-day ! ” Rene ex- 
claimed. 

“ Because a day or two will make no difference,^’ Cuthbert 
replied, “ and it is just as well to find out before we do join 
something about the men in command. Let us above all 
things choose a corps where they have had the good sense to 
get hold of two or three army men, who have had experience 
in war, as their field officers. We don’t want to be under a 
worthy citizen who has been elected solely because he is popu- 
lar in his quarter, or a demagogue who is chosen because he 
is a fluent speaker, and has made himself conspicuous by his 
abuse of Napoleon. This is not the time for tomfoolery ; we 
want men who will keep a tight hand over us, and make us 
into fair soldiers. It may not be quite agreeable at first, but 
a corps that shows itself efficient is sure to be chosen when 
there is work to be done, and will be doing outpost duty, whilst 
many of the others will be kept within the walls as being of no 
practical use. Just at present everything is topsy-turvy, but 
you may be sure that Trochu and Vinoy, and the other generals 
will gradually get things into shape, and will not be long be- 
fore they find what corps are to be depended on and what are 
not.” 

Crossing the river they made their way out beyond the walls. 
Even the light-hearted students were sobered by the sight be-- 
yond. Thousands of men were engaged on the work of demo- 
lition. Where but ten days since stood villas surrounded by 
gardens and trees, there was now a mere waste of bricks and 
mortar stretching down to the Forts of Issy and Vanves. The 
trees had all been felled and for the most part cut up and car- 
ried into Paris for firewood. Most of the walls were levelled, 
and frequent crashes of masonry showed that these last vestiges 
of bright and happy homes would soon disappear. A continuous 
stream of carts and foot-passengers came along the road to the 
gate — the men grim and bitter, the women crying, and all laden 


A GIRL OF THE VOMMUNE. 


53 


with the most valued of their little belongings. Numbers of 
cattle and herds of sheep, attended by guards, grazed in the 
fields beyond the forts. 

“ By Jove, Dampierre,’' Cuthbert said, “ if I hadn’t made up 
my mind to join a corps before, this scene would decide me. 
It is pitiful to see all these poor people, who have no more to 
do with the war than the birds in the air, rendered homeless. 
A good many of the birds have been rendered homeless too, 
but fortunately for them it is autumn instead of spring, and 
they have neither nests nor nestlings to think of, and can fly 
away to the woods on the slopes below Meudon.” 

“ What a fellow you are, Hartington, to be thinking of 
the birds when there are tens of thousands of people made 
miserable.” 

“ I fancy the birds are just as capable of feeling misery as 
we are,” Cuthbert said quietly, “ not perhaps over trivial matters, 
though they do bicker and quarrel a good deal among them- 
selves, but they have their great calamities, and die of thirst, of 
hunger, and of cold. I remember during a very hard frost some 
years ago our garden was full of dying birds, though my father 
had bushels of grain thrown to them every day. It was one of 
the most painful sights I ever saw, and I know I felt pretty 
nearly as much cut up at it as I do now. I hate to see dumb 
animals suffer. There is a sort of uncomplaining misery about 
them that appeals to one, at any rate appeals to me, infinitely. 
These poor fellows are suffering too, you will say. Yes, but 
they have their consolation. They promise themselves that as 
soon as they get into Paris they will join a corps and take 
vengeance on those who have hurt them. They may think, and 
perhaps with reason, that when the trouble is over, they will 
find their cottages still standing, and will take up life again as 
they left it. They have at least the consolation of swearing, a 
consolation which, as far as I know, is denied to animals and 
birds.” 

“ You are a rum fellow, Hartington, and I never know when 
you are in earnest and when you are not.” 

“ Let us go back,” Rend Caillard, who, with the others, had 


54 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


been standing silently, said abruptly. “ This is too painful ; 
I feel suffocated to think that such a humiliation should fall 
on Paris. Surely all civilized Europe will rise and cry out 
against this desecration.” He turned and with his comrades 
walked back towards the gate. Cuthbert followed with Arnold 
Dampierre. 

“ That is just the way with them,” the former said, “ it would 
have been no desecration had they encamped before Berlin, but 
now, because it is the other way, they almost expect a miracle 
from Heaven to interpose in their favor. Curious people the 
French. Their belief in themselves is firm and unshakable, 
and whatever happens it is the fault of others, and not of them- 
selves. Now, in point of fact, from all we hear, the Germans 
are conducting the war in a very much more humane and civilized 
way than the French would have done if they had been the in- 
vaders, and yet they treat their misfortunes as if high Heaven 
had never witnessed such calamities. Why, the march of the 
Germans has been a peaceful procession in comparison with 
Sherman’s march or Sheridan’s forays. They have sacked no 
city, their path is not marked by havoc and conflagration ; they 
fight our men, and maybe loot deserted houses, but as a rule 
unarmed citizens and peasants have little to complain of.” 

“ That is true enough,” the other agreed reluctantly. 

“ My opinion is,” Cuthbert went on, “ that all these poor 
people who are flocking into Paris are making a hideous mistake. 
If they stopped in their villages the betting is that no harm 
would have come to them ; whereas now they have left their 
homes unguarded and untenanted — and it would not be human 
nature if the Germans did not occupy them — while in Paris they 
will have to go through all the privations and hardships of a 
siege and perhaps of a bombardment ; besides there are so many 
more hungry mouths to feed. In my opinion Trochu and the 
Provisional Government would have acted very much more 
wisely had they issued an order that no strangers, save those 
whose houses have been destroyed, should be allowed to enter 
the city, and advising the inhabitants of all the villages round 
either to remain quietly in their homes, or to retire to places at 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


55 

a distance. Fighting men might, of course, come in, but all 
useless mouths will only hasten the date when famine will force 
the city to surrender.” 

“You seem very sure that it will surrender sooner or later, 
Hartington,” Dampierre said, irritably. “ My opinion is that all 
France will rise and come to her rescue.” 

“ If Bazaine cuts his way out of Metz they may do it, but we 
have heard nothing of his moving, and the longer he stays the 
more difficulty he will have of getting out. He has a fine army 
with him, but if he once gives time to the Germans to erect 
batteries commanding every road out of the place, he will soon 
find it well-nigh impossible to make a sortie. Except that army 
France has nothing she can really rely upon. It is all very 
well to talk of a general rising, but you can’t create an army 
in the twinkling of an eye ; and a host of half-disciplined peas- 
ants, however numerous, would have no chance against an 
enemy who have shown themselves capable of defeating the 
whole of the trained armies of France. No, no, Dampierre, you 
must make up your mind beforehand that you are going in on 
the losing side. Paris may hold out long enough to secure 
reasonable terms, but I fancy that is about all that will come 
of it.” 

The other did not reply. He had something of the un- 
reasoning faith that pervaded France, that a Republic was in- 
vincible, and that France would finally emerge from the struggle 
victorious. 

“ We shall try and find out to-night about the corps,” Rend 
Caillard said, as the others overtook them some distance 
inside the gates. “ After what we have seen to-day we are all 
determined to join without delay. I heard last night from some 
men at Veillant’s that they and a good many others have put 
their names down for a corps that is to be called the Chasseurs 
des ^coles. They said they understood that it was to be com- 
posed entirely of students. Not all art, of course, but law and 
other schools.” 

“ That would be just the thing,” Cuthbert said, “ if they can 
only get some good officers. One likes the men one has to 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


56 

work with to be a little of one’s own class. Well, if the officers 
are all right you can put my name down. I suppose there is no 
occasion for me to go myself.” 

“ Of course there is occasion, lazy one. You have to be 
sworn in.” 

Cuthbert nodded. “ I suppose we shan’t have to give up 
work altogether ? ” 

“ I should think not,” Rene said. “ I suppose we shall have 
two or three hours’ drill in the morning and nothing more till 
the time for action comes. Of course the troops and the mobiles 
will do the work at the forts and walls, and we shall be only 
called out if the Prussians venture to attack us, or if we march 
out to attack them.” 

“ So much the better. I came here to work, and I want to 
stick to it and not waste my time in parades and sentry duty. 
Well, we shall meet at the studio in the morning and you can 
give us your news then.” 

Some fifteen young men met on the following morning at 
Goude’s studio. 

“ Now, gentlemen,” said the artist, a short man, with a large 
head, and an abundant crop of yellow hair falling on to his 
shoulders, “ please to attend to business while you are here. 
Paint — you have plenty of time outside to discuss affairs.” 

M. Goude was an artist of considerable talent, but of peppery 
temper. He had at one time gone to war with the Hanging 
Committee of the Salon because one of his paintings had been 
so badly hung that he declared it to be nothing short of an 
insult, and had forthwith proceeded to publish the most violent 
strictures upon them. The result was that on the following 
year his pictures were not hung at all, whereupon, after another 
onslaught upon them, he had declared his determination never 
again to submit a picture to the judgment of men whose 
natural stupidity was only equalled by their ignorance of 
art. 

This vow he had for eight years adhered to, only occasionally 
painting a picture and selling it privately, but devoting himself 
almost entirely to the studio he had opened, when he ceased 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


57 


exhibiting. He was an admirable teacher and his list of pupils 
was always full. He was an exacting master and would take 
none but students who showed marked ability. As a preliminary 
a picture had to be presented to him for examination, and at least 
three out of four of the canvases sufficed to ensure their authors’ 
prompt rejection. 

It was, therefore, considered an honor to be one of Goude’s 
pupils, but it had its drawbacks. His criticisms were severe 
and bitter ; and he fell into violent passions when, as Leroux 
once observed, he looked like the yellow dwarf in a rage. Cuth- 
bert had heard of him from Terrier, who said that Goude had 
the reputation of being by far the best master in Paris. He had 
presented himself to him as soon as he arrived there ; his re- 
ception had not been favorable. 

“ It is useless. Monsieur,” the master had said, abruptly, 
“ there are two objections. In the first place you are too old, 
in the second place you are a foreigner, and I do not care to 
teach foreigners. I never had but one here, and I do not want 
another. He was a Scotchman, and because I told him one day 
when he had produced an atrocious daub, that he was an imbecile 
pig, he seized me and shook me till my teeth chattered in my 
head, and then kicked over the easel and went out.” 

“ You may call me an imbecile pig if you like,” Cuthbert saiA 
with his quiet smile, “ it would hurt me in no way. I hav« 
come over to learn, and I am told you are the best master ii 
Paris. When a man is a great master he must be permitted 
to have his peculiarities, and if he likes to treat grown-up mer 
as children, of course he can do so, for are we not children ! ) 
art by his side.” 

Monsieur Goude was mollified, but he did not show it. 

“ Have you brought any canvases with you ? ” 

“I have brought the last two things I did before leavii?/ 
London.” 

Well, you can bring them if you like,” the Piaster said, 
ungraciously, “ but I warn you it will be useless. You English 
cannot paint, even the best of you. You have b^o soul, you a V 
monotonous, but you may bring them.” 


58 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


An hour later Cuthbert returned to studio, which was 
now occupied by the students. 

“ You are prompt,” the master said, looking round from the 
student whose work he was correcting with no small amount 
of grumbling and objurgation. “ Put your things on those two 
spare easels, I will look at them presently.” 

Seeing that several of the other students were smoking, Cuth- 
bert filled and lighted his pipe, calmly placed the pictures on 
the easels without taking off the cloths in which they were 
wrapped, and then put his hands into the pockets of his velvet 
jacket and looked round the room. After his experience of 
some of the luxuriously arranged studios at St. John’s Wood, 
the room looked bare and desolate. There was no carpet and 
not a single chair or lounge of any description. Some fifteen 
young fellows were painting. All wore workmen’s blouses. 
All had mustaches, and most of them had long hair. They 
appeared intent on their work, but smiles and winks were fur- 
tively exchanged, and the careless nonchalance of this tall young 
Englishman evidently amused them. In four or five minutes M. 
Goude turned round and walked towards the easels. Cuthbert 
stepped to them and removed the cloths. The master stopped 
abruptly, looked at them without speaking for a minute or two, 
then walked up and closely examined them. 

“ They are entirely your own work ? ” he asked. 

“ Certainly, I did not show either of them to my master until 
I had finished them.” 

They were companion pictures. The one was a girl standing 
in a veranda covered with a grapevine, through which bright 
rays of sunshine shone, one of them falling full on her face. 
She was evidently listening, and there was a look of joyous ex- 
pectancy in her face. Underneath, on the margin of the canvas, 
was written in charcoal, “ Hope.” The other represented the 
same figure, darkly dressed, with a wan, hopeless look in her 
face, standing on a rock at the edge of an angry sea, over 
which she was gazing ; while the sky overhead was dark and 
sombre without a rift in the hurrying clouds. It was labelled 
“ Despair.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


59 


For two or three minutes longer M. Goudd looked silently at 
the pictures and then turning suddenly called out, “ Attention, 
gentlemen. Regard these pictures, they are the work of this 
gentleman who desires to enter my studio. In the eight years 
I have been teaching I have had over two hundred canvases 
submitted to me, but not one like these. I need not say that I 
shall be glad to receive him. He has been well taught. His 
technique is good and he has genius. Gentlemen, I have the 
honor to present to you Monsieur Cuthbert Hartington, who 
is henceforth one of you.” 

The students crowded round the pictures with exclamations 
of surprise and admiration. It was not until M. Goudd said 
sharply “ to work,” that they returned to their easels. 

“ You will find canvases in that cupboard if you like to set at 
work at once. Choose your own size and subject and sketch 
it out in chalk. I should like to see how you work. Ah, you 
have a portfolio. I will look through your sketches this after- 
noon if you will leave it here.” 

Cuthbert chose a canvas from a pile ready stretched, selected 
a sketch from his portfolio of a wayside inn in Normandy, 
pinned it on the easel above the canvas, and then began to 
work. M. Goude did not come near him until the work was fin- 
ished for the morning, then he examined what he had just done. 

“You work rapidly,” he said, “and your eye is good. You 
preserve the exact proportions of the sketch, which is excellent, 
though it was evidently done hastily, and unless I mistake was 
taken before you had begun really to paint. You did not know 
how to use color, though the effect is surprisingly good, con- 
sidering your want of method at the time. I will look through 
your portfolio while I am having my lunch. In an hour we 
resume work.” So saying he took up the portfolio and left the 
room. The students now came up to Cuthbert and introduced 
themselves one by one. 

“ You see our master in his best mood to-day,” one said. “I 
never have seen him so gracious, but no wonder. Now we 
have no ceremony here. I am Rene, and this is Pierre, and 
this Jean, and you will be Cuthbert.’’ 


6o 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ It is our custom in England,” Cuthbert said, “ that a new 
boy always pays his footing ; so gentlemen, I hope you will sup 
with me this evening. I am a stranger and know nothing of 
Paris ; at any rate nothing of your quarter, so I must ask two 
of you to act as a committee with me, and to tell me where we 
can get a good supper and enjoy ourselves.” 

From that time Cuthbert had been one of the brotherhood 
and shared in all their amusements, entering into them with a 
gayety and heartiness that charmed them and caused them to 
exclaim frequently that he could not be an Englishman, and that 
his accent was but assumed. Arnold Dampierre had been ad- 
mitted two months later. He had, the master said, distinct talent, 
but his work was fitful and uncertain. Some days he would 
work earnestly and steadily, but more often he was listless and 
indolent, exciting M. Goude’s wrath to fever heat. 

Among the students he was by no means a favorite. He 
did not seem to understand a joke, and several times blazed 
out so passionately that Cuthbert had much trouble in soothing 
matters down, explaining to the angry students that Dampierre 
was of hot southern blood and that his words must not be taken 
seriously. Americans, he said, especially in the south, had no 
idea of what the English call chaff, and he begged them as a 
personal favor to abstain from joking with him, or it would only 
lead to trouble in the studio. 


CHAPTER V. 

There was no more talk after the master had given the order 
for work. Most of the easels were shifted round and fresh 
positions taken up, then there was a little pause. 

“ She is late,” M. Goude said, with an impatient stamp of 
the foot. The words were scarcely out of his mouth when the 
door opened and a girl entered. 

“ Good-morning, messieurs,” and she made a sweeping 
courtesy. 

“ you are five minutes late, Minette,” 


A GIRL or THE COMMUNE. 


6i 

“ Ma foi, master, what would you have with the Prussians in 
sight and all Paris in the streets — five minutes mean neither 
here nor there. I expected praise for having come at all.” 

“ There, there,” the artist said hastily, “ run into your closet 
and change, we are all waiting.” 

She walked across the room to a door in the corner, with an 
expression of careless defiance in her face, and reappeared in 
five minutes in the dress of a Mexican peasant girl attired for 
a f^te. The dress suited her admirably. She was rather above 
the middle height, her figure lithe and supple with exceptionally 
graceful curves ; her head was admirably poised on her neck. 
Her hair was very dark, and her complexion Spanish rather 
than French. Her father was from Marseilles and her mother 
from Arles. 

Minette was considered the best model in Paris, and M. Goude 
had the merit of having discovered her. Three years before, 
when passing through a street inhabited by the poorer class of 
workmen in Montmartre, he had seen her leaning carelessly 
against a doorway. He was struck with the easy grace of her 
pose. He walked up the street and then returned. As he did 
so he saw her spring out and encounter an older woman, and 
at once enter upon a fierce altercation with her. It was carried 
on with all the accompaniment of southern gesture and ceased 
as suddenly as it began ; the girl, with a gesture of scorn and 
contempt turning and walking back to the post she had left 
with a mien as haughty as that of a Queen dismissing an inso- 
lent subject. 

“ That girl would be worth a fortune as a model,” the artist 
muttered. “I must secure her; her action and gesture are 
superb.” He walked up to her, lifted his broad hat, and said 
“ Mademoiselle, I am an artist. My name is Goude. I have 
an academy for painting, and I need a model. The work is not 
hard, it is but to sit or stand for two or three hours of a morn- 
ing, and the remuneration I should offer would be five francs a 
day for this. Have I your permission to speak to your par- 
ents ? ” 

There was an angry glitter in her eye — a change in her pose 


62 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


that, slight as it was, reminded the artist of a cat about to 
spring. 

“ A model for a painter, monsieur ? Is it that you dare to 
propose that I shall sit without clothes to be stared at by young 
men ? I have heard of such things. Is this what monsieur 
wishes ? ” 

“ Not at all, not at all,” Mr. Goude said hastily. “ Mademoi- 
selle would always be dressed. She would be sometimes a 
Roman lady, sometimes a Spanish peasant, a Moorish girl, a 
Breton, or other maiden. You would always be free to refuse 
any costume that you considered unsuitable.” 

Her expression changed again. “ If that is all, I might do 
it,” she said ; “ it is an easy way of earning money. How often 
would you want me ? ” 

“ I should say three times a week, and on tha other three 
days you would have no difficulty in obtaining similar work 
among artists of my own acquaintance. Here is my card and 
address.” 

The girl took it carelessly. 

“ I will speak to my father about it this evening when he 
comes home from work. You are quite sure that I shall not 
have to undress at all .? ” 

“ I have assured mademoiselle already that nothing of the 
sort will be required of her. There are models indeed who 
pose for figure, but these are a class apart, and I can assure 
mademoiselle that her feelings of delicacy will be absolutely 
respected.” 

The next day Minette Dufaure appeared at the studio and 
had ever since sat for all the female figures required. The air 
of disdain and defiance she had first shown soon passed away, 
and she -entered with zest and eagerness upon her work. She 
delighted in being prettily and becomingly dressed. She list- 
ened intelligently to the master’s descriptions of the characters 
that she was to assume, and delighted him with the readiness 
with which she assumed suitable poses, and the steadiness with 
which she maintained them. 

There was nothing of the stiffness of the model in her atti- 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


63 

tildes. They had the charm of being unstudied and natural, 
and whether as a bacchanal, a peasant girl, or a Gaulish amazon, 
she looked the part equally well ; her face was singularly mobile, 
and although this was an inferior consideration to the master, 
she never failed to represent the expression appropriate to the 
character she assumed. 

Her reputation was soon established among the artists who 
occasionally dropped into Goude’s studio, and her spare time 
was fully occupied, and that at much higher rates of pay than 
those she earned with him. After the first two or three months 
she came but twice a week there, as that amply sufficed for the 
needs of the studio. On his telling her that he should no longer 
require her to come three times a week, as his pupils had other 
things to learn besides drawing the female figure, the master 
said — 

“ I must pay you higher in future, Minette. I know that my 
friends are paying you five francs an hour.” 

A bargain is a bargain,” she said. “ You came to me first, 
and but for you I should never have earned a penny. Now we 
have moved into a better street and have comfortable lodgings. 
We have everything we want, and I am laying by money fast. 
You have always treated me well, and I like you though your 
temper is even worse than my father’s. I shall keep to my 
agreement as long as you keep to yours, and if you do not I 
shall not come here at all.” 

With the students Minette was a great favorite. In the 
pause of five minutes every half-hour to allow her to change 
her position, she chatted and laughed with them with the 
frankest good temper, more than holding her own in the sallies 
of chaff. When they occasionally made excursions in a body 
into the country to sketch and paint, she was always of the 
party, going in the capacity of comrade instead of that of a 
model, contributing a full share to the lunch basket, but ready 
to pose as a peasant girl with a fagot on her head, a gleaner, 
or a country-woman with a baby on her lap, according to the 
scene and requirements. It was a matter of course that 
Minette should be present at every supper party or little f^te 


64 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


among the students, always being placed in the seat of honor 
at the head of the table, and joining in all the fun of those 
merry reunions. For a time she treated all alike as comrades, and 
accepted no compliments save those so extravagant as to pro- 
voke general laughter. Gradually, however, it came to be 
understood among the students that Minette made an exception 
in the case of Arnold Dampierre, and that on occasions when 
they happened to break up in pairs he was generally by her 
side. 

One never can tell what women will do,” Rend Caillard 
said one evening, when five or six of them were sitting smoking 
together. “Now, Minette might have the pick of us.” 

“ No, no. Rend,” one of the others protested, “ most of us are 
suited already.” 

“Well, several of us, then. I am at present unattached, and 
so are Andrd, and Pierre, and Jean ; so is Cuthbert. Now, 
putting us aside, no woman in her senses could hesitate between 
the Englishman and Dampierre. He has a better figure, is 
stronger and better looking. He is cleverer, and is as good- 
tempered as the American is bad ; and yet she takes a fancy 
for Dampierre, and treats all the rest of us, including the 
Englishman, as if we were boys.” 

“ I fancy women like deference,” Pierre Leroux said. “ She 
is a good comrade with us all, she laughs and jokes with us as 
if she were one of ourselves. Now the American very seldom 
laughs and never jokes. He treats her as if she were a duchess 
and takes her altogether seriously. I believe he would be 
capable of marrying her.” 

The others all burst into a laugh. 

“ What are you laughing at ? ” Cuthbert asked, as he en- 
tered the room at the moment. 

“ Pierre is just saying that he thinks the American is capable 
of marrying Minette.” 

“ I hope not,” Cuthbert said, more seriously than he gener- 
ally spoke. “ Minette is altogether charming as she is. She 
is full of fun and life ; she is clever and sparkling. There is 
no doubt that in her style she is very pretty. As to her grace 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 65 

it needs no saying. I think she is an honest good girl, but the 
idea of marrying her would frighten me. We see the surface 
and it is a very pleasant one, but it is only the surface. Do 
you think a woman could look as she does in some of her poses 
and not feel it ? We have never seen her in a passion, but if she 
got into one, it would be terrible. When she flashes out some- 
times it is like a tongue of flame from a slumbering volcano. 
You would feel that there might be an eruption that would 
sweep everything before it. As you know, I gave up painting 
her after the first two months, but I sketch her in every pose ; 
not always her whole figure, but her face, and keep the sketches 
for use some day. I was looking through them only yesterday 
and I said to myself, ‘this woman is capable of anything.’ 
She might be a Joan of Arc, or Lucraetzia Borghia. She is a 
puzzle to me altogether. Put her in a quiet, happy home and 
she might turn out one of the best of women. Let her be 
thrown into turbulent times and she might become a demon of 
mischief. At present she is altogether undeveloped. She is 
two and twenty in years, but a child, or rather a piquant, amus- 
ing young girl, in manner, and perhaps in disposition. She is 
an enigma of which I should be sorry to have to undertake the 
solution. As she seems, I like her immensely, but when I try 
to fathom what she really is, she frightens me.” 

The others laughed. 

“ Poor little Minette,” Pierre Leroux said. “ You are too 
hard upon her altogether, Cuthbert. The girl is a born actress 
and would make her fortune on the stage. She can represent, 
by the instinct of art, passions which she has never felt. She 
can be simple and majestic, a laughing girl and a furious 
woman, a Christian martyr and a bacchanal, simply because 
she has mobile features, intelligence, sentiment, emotion, and a 
woman’s instinct, that is all. She is a jolly little girl, and the 
only fault I have to find with her is that she has the bad taste 
to prefer that gloomy American to me.” 

“ Well, I hope you are right, Pierre, though I hold my own 
opinion unchanged — at any rate I sincerely trust that Dam- 
pierre will not make a fool of himself with her. You men do 
5 


66 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


not like him because you don’t understand him. You are gay 
and light-hearted, you take life as it comes. You form connec- 
tions easily and lightly, and break them off again a few months 
later just as easily. Dampierre takes life earnestly. He is 
indolent, but that is a matter of race and blood. He would not 
do a dishonorable action to save his life. I believe he is the 
heir to a large fortune, and he can, therefore, afford to work at 
his art in a dilettante sort of manner, and not like us poor 
beggars who look forward to earning our livelihood by it. He 
is passionate, I grant, but that is the effect of his bringing up 
on a plantation in Louisiana, surrounded by his father’s slaves, 
for though they are now free by law the nature of the negro is 
unchanged, and servitude is his natural position. The little 
white master is treated like a god, every whim is humored, 
and there being no restraining hand upon him, it would be 
strange if he did not become hasty and somewhat arrogant. 

“ Not that there is any arrogance about Dampierre — he is 
unaffected and simple in his tastes, except in the matter of his 
lodgings. I question if there is one of us who spends less than 
he does, but he no more understands you than you understand 
him ; he takes your badinage seriously, and cannot understand 
that it is harmless fun. However, he is better in that respect 
than when he first came over, and in time, no doubt, his touchi- 
ness will die out. God forbid that he should ever spoil his life 
by such a hideous mistake as marrying Minette. Except on 
the principle that people are always attracted by their op- 
posites, I can’t account for his infatuation for this girl, or for her 
taking up with him. He has never alluded to the subject to me. 
I don’t know that her name has ever been mentioned between 
us. I agree with you that I think he is in earnest about her, 
but my conclusion is certainly not formed on anything he has 
ever said himself. I have often thought that a good deal of 
his irritability arises from his annoyance at her fun and easy 
way with us all. He never comes to any of our little meetings. 
If he is really in earnest about her, I can understand that it 
would be a terrible annoyance to him to see her taking a lead 
in such meetings and associating so freely with your, let us sa}'-, 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


67 

temporary wives. I have seen him on some of our sketching 
excursions walk away, unable to contain his anger when you 
have all been laughing and joking with her.” 

“I consider that to be an insolence,” Rene said hotly. 

“ No, no, Rene, imagine yourself five years older, and making 
a fortune rapidly by your art, in love with some girl whom you 
hope to make your wife. I ask you whether you would like to 
see her laughing and chatting en bonne camarade with a lot of 
wild young students. Still less, if you can imagine such a 
thing, joining heart and soul in the fun of one of their supper 
parties. You would not like it, would you ? ” 

“ No,” Rene admitted frankly. “ I own I shouldn’t. Of 
course, I cannot even fancy such a thing occurring, but if it did 
I can answer for it that I should not be able to keep my tem- 
per. I think now that you put it so, we shall be able to make 
more allowances for the American in future.” 

To this the others all agreed, and henceforth the tension that 
had not unfrequently existed between Dampierre and his fellow- 
students was sensibly relaxed. 

“ You were not here last week, Minette,” M. Goude said, as 
he went up on to the platform at the end of the room to arrange 
her pose. 

“ I did not think that you would expect me, master,” she 
said, “ but even if you had I could not have come. Do you 
think that one could stand still like a statue for hours when 
great things were being done, when the people were getting 
their liberty again, and the flag of the despot was being pulled 
down from the Tuileries. I have blood in my veins, master, 
not ice.” 

“ Bah ! ” M. Goude exclaimed. What difference does it 
make to you, or to anyone as far as I see, whether the taxes are 
levied in the name of an Emperor or of a Republic Do you 
think a Republic is going to feed you any better and reduce 
your rents, or to permit Belleville and Montmartre to become 
masters of Paris ? In a short time they will grumble at the 
Republic just as they grumble at the Emperor. It is folly and 
madness. The Emperor is nothing to me, the Government is 


68 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


nothing to me. I have to pay my taxes — they are necessary — 
for the army has to be kept up and the Government paid ; be- 
yond that I do not care a puff of my pipe what Government may 
call itself.” 

“ You will see what you will see,” said the girl, senten- 
tiously. 

“ I dare say, Minette, as long as I have eyes I shall do that. 
Now don’t waste any more time.” 

“ What am I to be, master ? ” 

“ A Spanish peasant girl dancing ; hold these slips of wood 
in your hand, they are supposed to be castanets ; now just im- 
agine that music is playing and that you are keeping time to it 
with them, and swaying your body, rather than moving your 
feet to the music.” 

After two or three changes she struck an attitude that satis- 
fied the master. 

“ That will do, Minette, stand as you are ; you cannot im- 
prove that. Now, gentlemen, to work.” 

She was standing with one foot advanced, as if in the act of 
springing on to it ; one of her arms was held above her head, 
the other advanced across her body ; her head was thrown back, 
and her balance perfect. 

Cuthbert looked up from his work, took out a note-book, and 
rapidly sketched the figure ; and then, putting his book into his 
pocket again, returned to his work, the subject of which was a 
party of Breton mobiles, with stacked arms under some trees in 
the Champs Elysee. He had taken the sketch two days be- 
fore and was now transferring it on to canvas. 

“ I should not be surprised,” he thought to himself, “ if the 
girl is right, and if there is not serious trouble brewing in the 
slums of Paris. 

“ As soon as these fellows find out that they are no better off 
for the change, and that a Republic does not mean beer and 
skittles, or, as they would like, unlimited absinthe and public 
workshops, with short hours and high pay, they will begin to get 
savage, and then there will be trouble. The worst of it is one 
can never rely upon the troops, and discipline is certainly 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


69 

more relaxed than usual now that the Emperor has been upset, 
and every Jack thinks himself as good as his master. Alto- 
gether I think we are likely to have lively times here before long. 
I am not sure that the enemies within are not likely to prove 
as great a danger to Paris as the foe without. It was a happy 
idea of mine to come to Paris, and I am likely to get subjects 
enough to last for a life-time, though I don’t know that battle 
scenes are altogether in my line. It does not seem to me that 
I have any line in particular yet. It is a nuisance having to de- 
cide on that, because I have heard Wilson say an artist, like a 
writer, must have a line, and when he has once taken it up he 
must stick to it.. If a man once paints sea pieces the public 
look to get sea pieces from him, and won’t take anything else. 
It is the same thing if he accustoms them to Eastern, or Spanish, 
or any other line. 

“ It maybe that this war will decide the matter forme, which 
will be a comfort and relief, though I doubt if I shall ever be able 
to stick in one groove. Goude said only yesterday that I had 
better go on working at both figure and landscape. At present 
he could not give an opinion as to which I was likely to succeed 
in best, but that he rather fancied that scenes of life and action, 
combined with good backgrounds, were my forte, and battle 
scenes would certainly seem to come under that category.” 

After work was over Cuthbert went out by himself and spent 
the afternoon in sketching. He was engaged on a group of 
soldiers listening to one of their number reading a bulletin of 
the latest news, when his eye fell on a young lady walking with 
a brisk step towards him. He started, then closed his note- 
book suddenly, and as she was on the point of passing, turned 
to her and held out his hand. 

“ Have you dropped from the skies. Miss Brander ? ” 

There was surprise, but neither embarrassment nor emotion 
on her face as she said, frankly — 

“ Why, Cuthbert Hartington, this is a curious meeting. I did 
know you were in Paris, for I had heard as much from my father, 
but I had no idea of your address and I have wondered many 
times since I came here, five weeks ago, whether we should run 


70 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


against each other. No, I have not dropped from the clouds, 
and you ought to have known I should be here ; I told you that 
I was going to have a year in Germany and then a year in 
France. My year in Germany was up two months ago. I went 
home for a fortnight, and here I am as a matter of course.” 

“ I might have known you would carry out your programme 
exactly as you had sketched it, but I thought that the disturbed 
state of things over here might have induced you to defer that 
part of the plan until a more appropriate season. Surely Paris 
is not just at present a pleasant abode for a young lady, and is 
likely to be a much more unpleasant one later on.” 

“ I think there could hardly be a more appropriate time for 
being here, Mr. Hartington ; one could have no better time for 
studying social problems than the present when conventionalities 
have gone to the winds and one sees people as they are ; but 
this is hardly the place to talk. I am boarding with a family at 
No. 15 Avenue de Passy. Will you come and see me there ? ” 

“ Certainly I will, if you will allow me. What will be a con- 
venient time ? ” 

“ I should say three o’clock in the afternoon. They are all 
out then, except Madame Michaud and her little daughter, and 
we shall be able to chat comfortably, which we could not do if 
you came in the evening, when the father is at home and two 
boys who are away at school during the day. Will you come 
to-morrow ? ” 

“ Yes, my afternoons are free at present.” 

She held out her hand and then walked away with a steady 
business-like step. Cuthbert stood watching her till she had 
disappeared in the crowd. 

“ She has no more sentiment in her composition at present,” 
he said to himself with a laugh that had some bitterness in it, 
“ than a nether millstone. Her mind is so wrapped up in this 
confounded fad of hers that there is no room in it for anything 
else. I might have been a cousin, instead of a man she had 
refused, for any embarrassment or awkwardness she felt at our 
sudden meeting. It clearly made no impression at all upon her. 
She remembers, of course, that she met me at Newquay. I don’t 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


71 


suppose she has really forgotten that I asked her to be my wife, 
but it was a mere incident, and affected her no more than if I 
had asked her to buy a picture and she had refused. I wish to 
goodness I had not met her again. I had got fairly over it, and 
was even beginning to wonder how I ever could have wanted to 
marry anyone so different in every way from the sort of woman I 
fancied I should have fallen in love with. How foolish of her 
coming over to Paris at this time. Well, I daresay it has all 
saved a lot of trouble. I suppose at that time Brander would 
have been delighted at the prospect, but it w'ould have been a 
very different thing after the failure of the bank. I don’t think 
he would have made a pleasant father-in-law under the present 
circumstances. He is an old fox. I always thought so, and I 
think so more than ever now. It has been a queer affair alto- 
gether. I wonder what Mary thinks of it all. I suppose she 
will talk to me about it to-morrow afternoon. By the way, I 
have to go this evening with Rene and the others to be sworn in 
or attested, or whatever they call it, at the Mairie. Their report 
as to the officers is satisfactory. I have heard that Longfranc 
was an excellent officer before he came into some money, cut 
the army and took up art. I have no doubt he wall make a good 
major, and he understands the men better than most army men 
would do. They say the Colonel is a good man, too, and 
was very popular with his regiment before he retired from the 
service.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

On inquiry of the concierge at No. 15 Avenue de Passy, 
Cuthbert was informed that Madame Michaud lived on the third 
floor. On ascending and ringing the bell the door was opened 
by an elderly servant. 

“ I have called to see Mademoiselle Brander, is she at 
home ? ” 

“ She is, sir.” 

“ Would you give her my card, if you please ? ” 


72 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ Mademoiselle is expecting you/’ the servant said, and led 
the way at once into a sitting-room. 

It was of the usual type of such room — of good size but bare, 
with bee’s-waxed flooring, plainly frescoed walls, and a ceiling 
colored gray and bordered with painted arabesques. Two or 
three small rugs relieved the bareness of the floor. An oval 
table on very thin legs stood in the middle ; the chairs and couch 
seemed to have been made to match it, and had an eminently 
bare and uncomfortable appearance ; a vase of flowers stood on 
a spindle-legged little table in front of one of the windows which 
opened down to the ground. Some colored prints in frames 
of stained wood hung on the walls, and some skimpy curtains 
draped the windows. 

Mary Brander was seated with a writing-pad on her knee 
at the window unoccupied by the vase and its support. She put 
the writing-pad and a book, evidently a large diary, down on 
the floor. 

“ You are punctual to the minute, Mr. Hartington. I should 
never have credited you with that virtue.” 

“Nor with any other virtue, I imagine. Miss Brander,” he 
said, with a smile. 

“ Oh, yes, I do. I credit you with numbers of them. Now 
draw that chair up to the window — it is not comfortable, but 
it is the best of them — and let us talk. Now, in the first place 
you don’t know how sorry, how dreadfully sorry I have been 
about what has happened at home. I was shocked, indeed, at 
the news of the sudden death of your dear father. He was al- 
ways so kind when he came to see us, and I liked him so much, 
I felt for you deeply. It must have been an awful shock for 
you. I heard it a few days after I got to Dresden. Then came 
the other news about that terrible failure and its consequences. 
It seemed too shocking altogether that you should have lost the 
dear old place, but I do think I was most . shocked of all when 
I heard that my father had bought it. Somehow it did not seem 
to be right. Of course it must have been, but it did not seem 
so to me. Did it to you, Cuthbert ? ” and she looked at him 
wistfully. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


73 


“ I have no doubt it was all right,” he said, “ and as it was to 
be sold, I think I preferred it should be to your father rather 
than anybody else. I believe I rather liked the thought that 
as it was not to be my home it would be yours.” 

She shook her head. 

“ It does not seem to me to be natural at all, and I was 
miserable all the time I was there the other day.” 

“ Your father respected my wishes in all respects, Mary. I 
believe he kept on all the old servants who chose to stay. He 
promised me that he would not sell my father’s hunters, 
and that no one should ride them, but that they should be pen- 
sioners as long as they lived ; and the same with the dogs, 
and that at any time, if I moved into quarters where I could 
keep a dog or two, he would send up my two favorites to 
me.” 

“ Yes, they are all there. I went out and gave cakes to the 
dogs and sugar to the horses every day, and talked to them, and 
I think regularly had a cry over them. It was very foolish, but 
I could not help it. It did all seem so wrong and so pitiful. I 
could not learn much about you from father. He said that you 
had only written once to him on business since things were 
finally settled ; but that you had mentioned that you were going 
to Paris, and he said, too — ” and she hesitated for a moment, 
“that although you had lost Fairclose and all the property, you 
had enough to live upon in a way — a very poor way — but still 
enough for that.” 

“ Not such a very poor way,” he said. “ There is no secret 
about it. I had five thousand pounds that had been settled on 
my mother, and fortunately that was not affected by the smash, 
so I have two hundred a year, which is amply sufficient for my 
wants.” 

“ It is enough, of course, to live upon in a way, Cuthbert, but 
so different from what you were accustomed to.” 

“ I don’t suppose you spend two hundred a year,” he said, 
with a smile. 

“ Oh, no, but a woman is so different. That is just what I 
have, and of course I don’t spend anything like all of it ; but 


74 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


as I said, it is so different with you, who have been accustomed 
to spend ever so much more.” 

“ I don’t find myself in any way pinched. I can assure you 
my lodgings in the Quartier Latin are not what you would call 
sumptuous, but they are comfortable enough, and they do not 
stand me in a quarter of what I paid for my chambers in London. 
I can dine sumptuously on a franc and a half. Another franc 
covers my breakfast, which is generally cafe au lait and two 
eggs ; another franc suffices for supper. So you see that my 
necessaries of life, including lodgings and fuel, do not come to 
anything like half my income, and I can spend the rest in 
riotous living if I choose.” 

The girl looked at him earnestly. 

“ You are not growing cynical, I hope, Cuthbert ? ” 

“ I hope not. I am certainly not conscious of it. I don’t 
look cynical, do I ? ” 

“ No,” she said, doubtfully. “ I do not see any change in 
you, but what do you do with yourself ? ” 

“ I paint,” he said. 

“ Really ! ” 

“ Really and truly, I have become what you wanted me to 
become, a very earnest person indeed, and some day people 
may even take to buying my pictures.” 

“ I never quite know when you are in earnest, Cuthbert ; but 
if it is true it is very good news. Do you mean that you are 
really studying ? ” 

“ I am indeed. I work at the studio of one M. Goude, and 
if you choose to inquire, you will find he is perhaps the best 
master in Paris. I am afraid the Prussians are going to in- 
terrupt my studies a good deal. This has made me angry and 
I have enlisted — that is to say, been sworn in as a member of 
the Chasseurs des i^coles, which most of the students at Goude’s 
have joined.” 

“What! You are going to fight against the Germans!” 
she exclaimed, indignantly. “ You never can mean it, 
Cuthbert.” 

“ I mean it, I can assure you,” he said, amused at her indig- 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


75 

nation. “I suppose you are almost Germanized, and regard 
their war against the French as a just and holy cause.” 

“ Certainly I do,” she said, “ though of course, I should not 
say so here. I am in France and living in a French family, and 
naturally I would say nothing that would hurt the feelings of 
the people round me, but there can be no doubt that the French 
deserve all the misfortunes that have fallen upon them. They 
would have invaded Germany, and all these poor young Germans 
have been torn away from their friends and families to fight.” 

“ So have these young Frenchmen. To my mind the war was 
deliberately forced upon France, but I think we had better agree 
to differ on this subject. You have been among Germans and 
it is not unnatural that you should have accepted their version. 
I have been living among Frenchmen, and although I do not 
say that it would not have been much wiser if they had 
avoided falling into the pit dug for them, my sympathies are 
wholly with them, except in this outburst of folly that has re- 
sulted in the establishment, for a time at any rate, of a Republic. 
No'w, I have no sympathy whatever with Republics, still less for 
a Republic controlled by political adventurers, and like many 
Frenchmen I am going to fight for France, and in no way for 
the Republic. At any rate let us agree to avoid the subject al- 
together. We shall never convince each other however much 
we might argue it over.” 

The girl was silent for two or three minutes, and then said — 

“ Well, we will agree not to quarrel over it. I don’t know 
how it is that we always see things so differently, Cuthbert. 
However, we may talk about your doings without arguing over 
the cause. Of course you do not suppose there will be much 
fighting — a week or two will see the end of it all.” 

“ Again we differ,” he said. “ I believe that there will be 
some sharp fighting, and I believe that Paris will hold out for 
months.” 

She looked at him incredulously. 

“ I should have thought,” she said, after a pause, “ you were 
the last person who would take this noisy shouting mob seri- 
Z)usly.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


76 

“ I don’t think anything of the mob one way or the other/’ 
he said. “ I despise them utterly ; but the troops and the mobiles 
are sufficient to man the forts and the walls, and I believe that 
middle-class corps, like the one I have entered, will fight man- 
fully ; and the history of Paris has shown over and over again 
that the mob of Paris, fickle, vain-headed, noisy braggadocios 
as they are, and always have been, can at least starve well. 
They held out against Henry of Navarre till numbers dropped 
dead in the streets, and until the Spaniards came at last from the 
Netherlands and raised the siege, and I believe they will hold out 
now. They have courage enough, as has been shown over and 
over again at the barricades, but they will be useless for fighting 
because they will submit to no discipline. Still, as I said, they 
can starve, and it will be a long time indeed before the suffering 
will become intense enough to drive them to surrender. I fear 
that you have altogether underrated the gravity of the situation, 
and that you will have very severe privations to go through 
before the siege is over.” 

“ I suppose I can stand it as well as others,” she laughed, 
“ but I think you are altogether wrong. However, if it should 
come it will be very interesting.” 

“ Very,” he said, shortly, “but I doubt if you will see it quite 
in the same light when it comes to eating rats.” 

“ I should not eat them,” she said, decidedly. 

“ Well, when it comes to that or nothing, I own that I myself 
shall eat rats if I can get them. I have heard that the country 
rat, the fellow that lives in ricks, is by no means bad eating, 
but I own to having a doubt as to the Paris rat.” 

“ It is disgusting to think of such a thing,” she said, indig- 
nantly, “ the idea is altogether ridiculous.” 

“ I do not know whether you consider that betting is among 
the things that woman has as much right to do as man ; but if 
you do, I am ready to wager it will come to rats before Paris 
surrenders.” 

“ i never made a bet in my life,” she said, “ but I will wager 
five francs with you that there will be nothing of the sort. I do 
not say that rats may not be eaten in the poor quarters. I do 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


77 


not know what they eat there. I hear they eat horse-flesh, and 
for anything I know they may eat rats ; but I will wager that 
rats will never be openly sold as an article of food before Paris 
surrenders.” 

“ It is a bet,” he said, “ and I will book it at once,” and he 
gravely took out a pocket-book and made an entry. “ And 
now,” he said, as he replaced the book in his pocket, “ how do 
you pass your time ? ” 

“ I spend some hours every day at the Bibliotheque. Then I 
take a walk in this quarter and all round the Boulevards. One 
can walk just as freely there as one could in Germany, but I 
find that I cannot venture off them into the poorer quarters ; 
the people stare, and it is not pleasant.” 

“ I certainly should not recommend you to make experiments 
that way. In the great thoroughfares a lady walking by herself 
passes unnoticed, especially if she looks English or American. 
They are coming to understand that young women in those 
countries are permitted an amount of freedom that is shocking 
to the French mind, but the idea has not permeated to the lower 
strata of society. 

“ If you are really desirous of investigating the ways of the 
female population of the poorer quarters, I shall be happy to 
escorfyou whenever you like, but I do not think you will be al- 
together gratified with the result of your researches, and I think 
that you would obtain a much closer insight into French lower 
class life by studying Balzac and some of the modern writers — 
they are not always savory, but at least they are realistic.” 

“ Balzac is terrible,” she said, “and some of the others I have 
read a little of are detestable. I don’t think you can be serious 
in advising me to read them.” 

“ I certainly should not advise you to read any of them. Miss 
Brander, if you were a young lady of the ordinary type ; but as 
you take up the cause of woman in general it is distinctly 
necessary that you should study all the phases of female life. 
How else can you grapple with the question ? ” 

“ You are laughing at me again, Mr. Hartington,” she said, 
somewhat indignantly. 


78 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ I can assure you that I am not. If your crusade is in favor 
only of girls of the upper and middle classes, you are touching 
but the fringe of the subject, for they are outnumbered by 
twenty to one by those of other classes, and those in far greater 
need of higher life than the others.” 

“ It seems rather hopeless,” Mary Brander said, despondently, 
after a pause, “ one is so unable to influence them.” 

“ Exactly so. You are setting yourself to move a mountain. 
When the time comes there may be an upheaval, and the moun- 
tain may move of its own accord ; but the efforts of a thousand 
or ten thousand women as earnest as yourself would be no 
more use in proportion, than those of a colony of ants working 
to level the mountain.” 

“ Don’t discourage me, Cuthbert,” she said, pitifully. “ I do 
believe with all my heart in my principles, but I do often feel 
discouraged. The task seems to grow larger and more difficult 
the more I see of it, and I own that living a year among Ger- 
man women was rather crushing to me.” 

“ That I can quite understand,” he said, with a smile, “ the 
average German woman differs as widely in her ideas — I do 
not say aspirations, for she has none — from your little group of 
theorists at Girton as the poles are apart.” 

“ But do not think,” she replied, rallying, “ that I am in the 
least shaken because I see that the difficulty is greater than I 
have looked for. Your simile of ants is not correct. Great 
things can be done by individuals. Voltaire and Rousseau 
revolutionized F rench thought from the top to the bottom. Why 
should not a great woman some day rise and exercise as great 
influence over her sex as these two Frenchmen did ? But do 
not let us talk about that any more. I want to hear more about 
what you are doing. I have thought of you so much during 
the past year — it has all seemed so strange and so sad. Are 
you really working hard — I mean steadily and regularly ? ” 

“ You evidentl)- think that impossible,” he laughed, “ but I can 
assure you it is true. If you doubt me I will give you Goude’s 
address, and if you call upon him and say that you have an 
interest in me — you can assign any reason you like, say that you 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


79 


are an aunt of mine and intend to make me your heir — and 
beg him to inform you frankly of his opinion of my work and 
progress, I feel sure that he will give you an account that will 
satisfy your doubts.” 

“ I don’t think I could do that,” she said, seriously. “ There, 
you are laughing at me again,” she broke off as she looked up 
at him. “ Of course I could not do such a thing, but I should 
very greatly like to know about you.” 

“ I do think. Miss Brander, I am working hard enough and 
steady enough to satisfy even you. I did so for six months in 
England with a fellow named Terrier. He was just the master 
I wanted. He had not a shadow of imagination, but was up in 
all the technical details of painting, and in six months’ hard 
work I really learnt to paint ; previous to that I knew nothing 
of painting. I could make a colored sketch, but that was all, 
now I am on the highway to becoming an artist. Goude will 
only receive pupils whom he considers likely to do him credit, 
and on seeing two of the things I had done after I had been 
working with Terrier, he accepted me at once. He is a 
splendid master — out and away the best in Paris, and is really 
a great artist himself. He is a peppery little man and will 
tolerate no nonsense, and I can assure you that he is well 
satisfied with me. I am going to set to work to do a couple of 
pictures on my own account for next year’s Salon. I should have 
waited another year before trying my wings, if he had not en- 
couraged me to venture at once, and as he is very much op- 
posed to his pupils painting for exhibition until they are suffi- 
ciently advanced to begin with a success, it is proof that he has 
at least some hopes of me.’’ 

“ I am glad irrdeed, Cuthbert. I shan’t be quite so sorry 
now as I have been about your losing Fairclose. It is so much 
nobler to work than it is to fritter away a life doing nothing. 
How tiresome it is,” she said, ‘‘that you have taken this un- 
fortunate idea in your head of joining a French corps. It will 
unsettle you altogether.” 

“ Really,” he broke in with a laugh, “ I must protest against 
being considered so weak and unstable. You had"a perfect right 


8o 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


in thinking me lazy, but I don’t think you have any right in con- 
sidering me a reed to be shaken by every passing wind. I can 
assure you that I am very fixed in my resolves. I was content 
to be lazy before simply because there was no particular reason 
for my being otherwise, and I admit that constitutionally I may 
incline that way ; but when a cataclysm occurred, and, as I 
may say, the foundations were shaken, it became necessary for 
me to work, and I took a resolution to do so, and have stuck 
to it. Possibly I should have done so in any case. You see 
when a man is told by a young lady he is a useless idler, who 
does but cumber the earth, it wakes him up a little.” 

“ I am sure I didn’t say that,” Mary said, indignantly, but 
with a hot flush on her cheeks. 

“ Not in those precise words, but you spoke to that effect, 
and my conscience told me you were not far wrong in your 
opinion. I had begun to meditate whether I ought not to turn 
over a new leaf when I came in suddenly for Fairclose ; that of 
course seemed to knock it all on the head. Then came what 
we may call the smash. This was so manifestly an interposi- 
tion of Providence in the direction of my bestirring myself that 
I took the heroic resolution to work.” 

Mary felt that it was desirable to avoid continuing the sub- 
ject. She had long since come to regard that interview in the 
garden as a sort of temporary aberration on his part, and that 
although, perhaps, sincere at the moment, he had very speedily 
come to laugh at his own folly, and had recognized that the 
idea was altogether ridiculous. Upon her it had made so little 
impression that it had scarcely occurred to her when they met, 
that any passage of the sort had taken place, and had welcomed 
him as the lad she had known as a child, rather than as the 
man who had, under a passing impulse, asked her to marry 
him. 

“ I think,” she said suddenly, “ I will fetch Madame Michaud 
in. It will be nice for you to come here in the evening some- 
times, and it would be better for her to ask you to do so than 
for me. These French people have such funny ideas.” 

“ It would certainly be more pleasant,” he agreed, “ and even- 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 8i 

ing will be the time that I have most leisure — that is to say, 
when we do not happen to be on duty, as to which I am very 
vague at present. They say the sailors will garrison the forts 
and the army take the outpost duty ; but I fancy, when the 
Germans really surround us, it will be necessary to keep so 
strong a force outside the walls, that they will have to call out 
some of us in addition. The arrangement at present is, we are 
to drill in the morning and we shall paint in the afternoon ; so 
the evening will be the only time when we shall be free.” 

“ What do you do in the evening generally ? You must find 
it very lonely.” 

“ Not at all. I have an American who is in our school, and 
who lodges in the same house as I do. Then there are the 
students, a light-hearted, merry set of young fellows. We have 
little supper-parties and go to each other’s rooms to chatter and 
smoke. Then, occasionally, I drop into the theatre. It is very 
much like the life I had in London, only a good deal more lively 
and amusing, and with a great deal less luxury and a very much 
smaller expenditure ; and — this is very serious I can assure 
you — very much worse tobacco.” 

The girl laughed merrily. 

“ What will you do about smoking when you are reduced to 
the extremity you prophesy ? ” 

“ That point is, I confess, troubling me seriously. I look 
forward with very much greater dread to the prospect of hav- 
ing to smoke dried leaves and the sweepings of tobacco ware- 
houses, than I do to the eating of rats. I have been making in- 
quiries of all sorts as to the state of the stock of tobacco, and I 
intend this evening to invest five pounds in laying in a store ; 
and mean to take up a plank and hide it under the floor, and 
to maintain the most profound secrecy as to its existence. 
There is no saying whether, as time goes on, it may not be de- 
clared an offence of the gravest character for any one to have 
a private store of any necessary. If you have any special weak- 
nesses, such as chocolate or tea, or anything of that sort, I 
should advise you not to lose a moment in laying in a good 
stock. You will see in another week, when people begin to 
6 


82 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


recognize generally what a siege means, that everything eatable 
will double in price, and in a month only millionaires will be 
able to purchase them.” 

“ I really will buy some tea and chocolate,” she said. 

“ Get in a good stock,” he said. “ Especially of chocolate. 
I am quite serious, I can assure you. Unfortunately, you have 
no place for keeping a sheep or two, or a bullock ; and bread, 
at the end of a couple of months, could scarcely be eaten ; but, 
really, I should advise you to invest in a dozen of those big 
square boxes of biscuits, and a ham or two may come in as a 
welcome addition some day.” 

Mary laughed incredulously, but she was much more inclined 
than before to look at matters seriously, when, on fetching 
Madame Michaud in, that lady, in the course of conversation, 
mentioned that her husband had that morning bought three 
sacks of flour and a hundred tins of preserved meats. 

“ He is going to get some boxes,” she said, “ and to have the 
flour emptied into them, then the baker will bring them round 
in a cart, so that no one will guess it is flour. He says it is 
likely that there wdll be an order issued that everything of that 
sort is to be given into a public store for general distribution, 
so it must be brought here quietly. He tells me that every one 
he knows is doing the same thing. My servant has been out 
this morning eight times and has been buying eggs. She has 
brought a hundred each time, and we are putting them in a cask 
in salt.” 

“ Do you really think all that is necessary, madame ? ” Mary 
asked, doubtfully. 

“ Most certainly I do. They say everything will go up to 
such prices as never were heard of before. Of course, in a 
month or two the country will come to our rescue and destroy 
the Prussians, but till then we have got to live. Already eggs 
are fetching four times as much as they did last week. It is 
frightful to think of it, is it not, monsieur ? ” 

“ If I were in your place, madame, I would not reckon too 
surely on relief in a month. I think that there is no doubt 
that, as you say, there will be a prohibition of anyone keeping 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


83 


provisions of any sort, and everything will be thrown into the 
public magazines. Likely enough every house will be searched, 
and you cannot hide your things too carefully.” 

“ But why should they insist on everything being put in pub- 
lic magazines ? ” Mary asked. “ It will not go further that way 
than if people keep their own stocks and eat them.” 

“ It will be necessary, if for nothing else, to prevent rioting 
when the pinch comes, and people are starving in the poorer 
quarters. You may be sure if they have a suspicion that the 
middle and upper classes have food concealed in their houses, 
they will break in and sack them. That would only be human 
nature, and therefore in the interest of order alone a decree 
forbidding anyone to have private stores would have to be 
passed ; besides it would make the food go much further, for 
you may be sure that everything will be doled out in the small- 
est quantities sufficient to keep life together, and before the 
end of the siege comes each person may only get two or three 
ounces of bread a day.” 

Madame Michaud nodded as if prepared to be reduced even 
to that extremity. 

“ You are right, monsieur, I am going to get stuff and to 
make a great number of small bags to hold the flour ; then we 
shall hide it away under the boards in many places, so that if 
they find some they may not And it all.” 

“ The idea is a good one, madame, but it has its disadvan- 
tages. If they find one parcel they will search so closely every- 
where that they will find the rest. For that reason one good 
hiding-place, if you could invent one, would be better than 
many.” 

“ One does not know what is best to do,” Madame Michaud 
said, with a gesture of tragic despair. “ Who could have 
thought that such a thing could happen to Paris ! ” 

“ It is unexpected, certainly,” Cuthbert agreed, “ but it has 
been foreseen, otherwise they would never have taken the trou- 
ble to build this circle of forts round Paris. They are useful 
now not only in protecting the city but in covering a wide area, 
where the cattle and sheep may feed under the protection of 


84 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


the guns. I don’t think we are as likely to be as badly off fol 
meat as for bread, for after the flocks and herds are all eaten 
up there are the horses, and of these there must be tens of 
thousands in Paris.” 

“That is a comfort, certainly,” the Frenchwoman said, 
calmly, while Mary Brander made a little gesture of disgust. 

“ I have never tried horseflesh myself, at least that I know 
of, but they say it is not so bad ; but I cannot think that they 
will have to kill the horses for food. The country will not wait 
until we are reduced to that extremity.” 

“ Mr. Hartington has joined one of the regiments of volun- 
teers, Madame Michaud.” 

“ That is good of you, monsieur ; my husband is in the Na- 
tional Guard, and they say every one will have to take up a 
musket ; but as you are a foreigner, of course this would not 
apply to you.” 

“Well, for the time being I consider myself a Parisian, and 
as a German shell is just as likely to fall on the roof of the 
house where I live as on any other, I consider myself to be 
perfectly justified in doing my best in self-defence.” 

“ I trust that you will call whenever you are disposed in the 
evening, monsieur,” Madame Michaud said, cordially ; “ it will 
give my husband pleasure to meet an English gentleman who 
is voluntarily going to fight in the cause of France.” 

“ Thank you, madame. I shall be very glad to do so. 
Mademoiselle’s father is a very old friend of our family, and I 
have known her ever since she was a little child. It will be 
pleasant to me to make the acquaintance of monsieur. And 
now, Miss Brander, I must be going.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

As he sauntered back into the city, Cuthbert met an English 
resident with whom he had some slight acquaintance. 

“ So you are not among the great army of deserters, Mr. 
Phipson ? ” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


8S 

“ No, I thought it better to stay here and see it out. If the 
Germans come in I shall hang out the English flag and I have 
on doubt that it will be all right. If I go away the chances are 
that I should find the place sacked when I return.” 

“Then, of course, you will keep your place open.” 

“ It will be closed to the public to-morrow — to the public, 
mind you. My English customers and friends, if they come to 
the little door in the Arcade, and give two knocks, and then 
three little ones with their knuckles on the door, will find it open, 
and can be served as long as there is any liquor left ; but for the 
last three days I have been clearing out nearly all my stock. 
The demand has been tremendous, and I was glad enough to get 
rid of it, for even if the place isn’t looted by the mob all the 
liquors might be seized by the authorities and confiscated for 
public use. I shall be glad when the doors are closed, I can tell 
you, for these people are enough to make one sick. The way 
they talk and brag sets my fingers itching, and I want to ask 
them to step into the back room, take off their coats, those 
uniforms they are so proud of, and stand up for a friendly round 
or two just to try what they are made of. 

“ I reckon if a chap can’t take one on the nose and come up 
* smiling, he would not be worth much when he has to stand up 
against the Prussians. I thought I understood them pretty well 
after having been coachman here for over twenty years, but I 
see now that I was wrong altogether. Of course I knew they 
were beggars to talk, but I always thought that there was some- 
thing in it, and that if it came to fighting they would show up 
pretty well ; but to hear them going on now' as to what France 
will do and doing nothing themselves, gives one a sickener. 
Then the way as they blackguard the Emperor, who wasn’t by 
any means a bad chap, puts my monkey up I can tell you. Why 
there is not one in fifty of them as is fit to black his boots. He 
had a good taste in horses too, he had ; and when I hear them 
going on, it is as much as I can do not to slip in to them. 

“ That is one reason why I am stopping. A week ago I had 
pretty well made up my mind that I would go, but they made 
me so mad that I says to myself, I will stop and see it out, if it 


86 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


is only for the pleasure of seeing these fellows get the licking 
they deserve. I was out yesterday evening. There was every 
cafe crowded ; there was the , singing-places fuller than I ever 
saw them ; there were drunken soldiers, who ought to have been 
with their regiments outside the walls, reeling about the streets. 
Any one as seed the place would have put it down that it was 
a great fete-day. As to the Prussians outside no one seemed 
to give them a thought. If you went from table to table you 
heard everyone saying that the Germans would be destroyed, and 
that every one who talked of peace now was a traitor.” 

“I quite agree with you,” Cuthbert said, “they are most 
extraordinary people. Still I do think they will fight.” 

“ Well, sir, I don’t know whether you have heard the news 
that they have been licked this morning somewhere out near 
Clamart. I heard just now that a lot of the linesmen bolted and 
never stopped running till they got into Paris, but they say the 
Breton mobiles fought well, though they had to fall back at 
last.” 

“The troops are disorganized at present,” Cuthbert said*; 
“ but when you see what a tremendous thrashing they have had 
it is hardly to be expected that they should fight with any 
confidence, but when discipline is restored and they have had 
a few skirmishes they will be different men altogether. As to 
the mobiles, they are mere peasants at present, but a month of 
hard work will turn them into soldiers, and I should say better 
soldiers than the linesmen ; but I am afraid they wall never make 
anything out of the National Guard. The only way to do so 
will be to establish big camps outside the walls and send them 
all out there and put strict army men in command, with a 
regiment of regulars in each camp to carry out their orders. It 
would be necessary, no doubt, to shoot a few hundred of them 
before anything like discipline could be established ; and once 
a week the whole should be sent out to attack the Germans so 
as to teach them to be steady under fire. In that way they 
might be turned into decent soldiers.” 

“ Lord bless you, sir, Government would never try that. 
There would be barricades in the streets in no time, and as 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 87 

the soldiers are all outside the walls the mob would upset the 
Government in a week.” 

“ I am not at all saying it would do, but it is the only thing 
to make soldiers of them.” 

“Well, sir, you will know where to come when things get bad. 
I don’t expect there will be any beer to be had, but I have been 
down with my son Bob into the cellar for the last four nights. 
I could not trust the French waiters, and we dug holes and 
have buried a couple of dozen kegs of my best spirits, so if they 
make a clear sweep of the rest I reckon we shall be able to 
keep that door open a goodish while.” 

“ I shan’t forget, and I hope that your spirits may escape the 
searchers, but you know just at present we are not popular in 
Paris. They have got an idea in their heads that we ought to 
have declared war against the Germans on their behalf ; why. 
Heaven knows, but you may be sure that all the English places 
will be very strictly searched.” 

“ Yes, I reckon on that, and we have got them twelve feet 
deep. It will be a job to get them out as we want them, but 
there won’t be anything else to do and it will keep us in health.” 

Cuthbert had asked all the students to come in and smoke a 
pipe that evening in his room, and had ordered supper to be 
sent in.” 

“ I am going to have it there instead of one of the usual 
places,” he said, “ because I don’t think it is decent to be feast- 
ing in a public at a time like this. I expect it is about the last 
time we shall have anything like a supper. Things will be 
altogether beyond the reach of our purses in another week. 
Besides, I hope we shall be outside before long.” 

Arnold Dampierre was the first to come in. 

“ I am disgusted with the Parisians,” he said, moodily. 

“ Well, yes, I am not surprised. It is not quite the spirit in 
which your people entered on their struggle, Dampierre.” 

“ No, we meant it ; the struggle with us was to get to the front. 
Why, do you know, I heard two or three of the National Guard 
grumbling in the highest state of indignation, and why, do you 
think } Because they had to sleep in the open air last night 


88 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Are these the men to defend a city ? There will be trouble 
before long, Cuthbert. The workmen will not stand it ; they 
have no faith in the Government nor in Trochu, nor in anyone.” 

“ Including themselves, I hope,” Cuthbert smiled. 

“They are in earnest. I have been up at ” and he 

hesitated, “ Montmartre this afternoon, and they are furious 
there.” 

“ They are fools,” Cuthbert said, scornfully, “ and no small 
proportion are knaves besides. They read those foul pamphlets 
and gloat over the abuse of every decently dressed person. 
They rave against the Prussians, but it is the Bourgeois they 
hate. They talk of fighting, while what they want is to sack 
and plunder.” 

“ Nothing of the kind,” the American said, hotly. “ They 
want honesty and purity, and public spirit. They see vice more 
rampant than it was in the days of the Empire. They see the 
Bourgeois shirking their duty. They see license and extrav- 
agance everywhere.” 

“ It is a pity they don’t look at home,” Cuthbert laughed? 
good-temperedly. “ I have not yet learnt that either purity or 
honesty, or a sense of duty are conspicuous at Montmartre or 
Belleville. There is just as much empty vaporing there as there 
is down the Boulevards. As to courage, they may have a chance 
presently of showing whether they have more of it than the 
better class. Personally, I should doubt it.” Then he added 
more seriously, “ My dear Dampierre, I can of course guess 
where you have learnt all this. I know that Minette’s father is 
one of the firebrands of his quarter, and that since she has been 
earning an income here he has never done a stroke of work, but 
has taken up the profession of politician. I am not doubting 
his sincerity. He may be for aught I know perfectly in earnest, 
but it is his capacity I doubt. These uneducated men are able 
to see but one side of the question, and that is their own. 

“ I am not at all blind to the danger. I believe it is possible 
that we are going to have another red revolution. Your men at 
Belleville and Montmartre are capable of repeating the worst 
and most terrible features of that most awful time, but you know 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 89 

what came of it and how it ended. Even now some of these 
blackguard prints are clamoring for one man to take the 
supreme control of everything. So far there are no signs of 
that coming man, but doubtless, in time, another Bonaparte 
may come to the front and crush down disorder with an iron 
heel ; but that will not be until the need for a saviour of society 
is evident to all. I hope, my dear fellow, you will not be carried 
away with these visionary ideas. I can, of course, understand 
your predilections for a Republic, but between your Republic 
and the Commune, for which the organs of the mob are already 
clamoring, there is no shadow of resemblance. They are both 
founded, it is true, on the will of the majority, but in the States 
it is the majority of an educated and distinctly law-abiding people 
— here it is the majority of men who would set the law at defiance, 
who desire power simply for the purposes of spoliation.” 

Dampierre would have replied angrily, but at this moment 
the door opened and two or three of the other students entered. 

“ Have you heard about that affair at Clamart,” they de- 
manded eagerly. “ They say the line behaved shamefully, and 
that Trochu declares they shall be decimated.” 

“ You may be quite sure that if he said so he will not carry 
it out,” Cuthbert said. “ The army has to be kept in a good 
humor, and at any rate until discipline is fully restored it would 
be too dangerous a task to venture on punishing cowardice. 
It is unfortunate certainly, but things will get better in time. 
You can hardly expect to make the fugitives of a beaten army 
into heroes all at once. I have not the least doubt that if the 
Germans made an attack in full force they would meet with very 
slight resistance ; but they won’t do that. They will go to work 
in a regular and steady way. They will erect batteries, com- 
manding every road out of the town, and will then sit down and 
starve us out, hastening the process, perhaps, by a bombard- 
ment. But all that will take time. There will be frequent fight- 
ing at the outposts, and if Trochu and the rest of them make 
the most of the material they have at hand, poor as much of it 
is, they will be able to turn out an army that should be strong 
enough to throw itself upon any point in the German line and 


90 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


break its way out ; but it must be an army of soldiers, not a 
force composed of disheartened fugitives and half-drilled citi- 
zens.” 

“ The National Guard are drilling earnestly,” Rend Caillard 
said. “ I have been watching them this afternoon, they really 
made a very good show.” 

“ The father of a family with a comfortable home and a pros- 
perous business can drill as well as the most careless vaurien, 
Rend ; better, perhaps, for he will take much greater pains ; 
but when it comes to fighting, half a dozen reckless daredevils 
are worth a hundred of him. I think if I had been Trochu I 
would have issued an order that every unmarried man in Paris 
between the ages of sixteen and forty-five should be organized 
into, you might call it, the active National Guard for continual 
service outside the walls, while the married men should be re- 
served for defending the enceinte at the last extremity. The 
outside force might be but a third of the whole, but they would 
be worth as much as the whole force together. That is why I 
think that our corps may distinguish itself. We have none of 
us wives or families and nothing much to lose, consequently 
we shall fight well. We shan’t mind hardships for we have not 
been accustomed to luxuries. We are fighting as volunteers and 
not because the law calls us under arms. 

“ We are educated and have got too much self-respect to bolt 
like rabbits. I don’t say we may not retire. One can’t do im- 
possibilities, and if others don’t stand, we can’t oppose a Prus- 
sian Army Corps. There is one thing you must do, and that 
is preserve good discipline. There is no discipline at all in the 
National Guard. I saw a party of them yesterday drilling, and 
two or three of them quietly marched out of the ranks and re- 
monstrated on terms of the most perfect equality, with their 
colonel as to an order he had given. The maxim of the Re- 
public may do for civil life, though I have not a shadow of be- 
lief either in equality or fraternity ; nor have I in liberty when 
liberty means license ; whether that be so or not equality is 
not consistent with military discipline. An army in whicli the 
idea of equality reigns is not an army but a mob, and is no 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


91 

more use for fighting purposes than so many armed peasants. 
The Shibboleth is always absurd and in a case like the present 
ruinous. The first duty of a soldier is obedience, absolute and 
implicit, and a complete surrender of the right' of private judg- 
ment.” 

“ And you would obey an officer if you were sure that he 
were wrong, Cuthbert ? ” 

“ Certainly I would. I might, if the mistake did not cost me 
my life, argue the matter out with him afterwards, if, as might 
happen among us, we were personal acquaintances ; but I should 
at the same time carry out the order, whatever it might be, to 
the best of my power. And now I propose that for this even- 
ing we avoid the subject of the siege altogether. In future, en- 
gaged as we are likely to be, we shall hardly be able to avoid 
it, and moreover the bareness of the table and the emptiness of 
the wine-cups will be a forcible reminder that it will be impos- 
sible to escape it. Did you show Goude your sketch for your 
picture for the Salon, Rene.” 

“ I did, after you had all gone, and I have not got over the 
interview yet. His remarks on the design, conception, and the 
drawing were equally clear and decisive. He more than hinted 
that I was a hopeless idiot, that the time he had given me was 
altogether wasted, that I had mistaken my avocation, and that 
if the Germans knocked me on the head it would be no loss 
either to myself or to society in general. It is true that after he 
had finished he cooled down a bit and made a number of sug- 
gestions from which I gathered that if the whole thing were al- 
tered, my idea of the background altogether changed, the figures 
differently posed, the effect of light and shade diametrically 
reversed, and a few other trifling alterations made, the thing 
might possibly be hung on the top line. Ma foi, I feel alto- 
gether crushed, for I had really flattered myself that the sketch 
was not altogether without merit.” 

When the laugh had subsided Cuthbert said — 

“ Courage, Rend, Goude’s bark is always worse than his bite, 
and I have no doubt he will take a much more favorable view of 
it as you get on,” 


92 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


“ It is all very well for you to say so,” Ren^ said, ruefully. 
‘‘ You are a spoiled child, Goude has never a word of reproof 
for you.” 

“ Probably because he knows very well that I shall not break 
my heart over it. We must hold a committee of inspection on 
your work to-morrow ; none of us have seen your design yet, 
and we may be able between us to make some useful sugges- 
tion.” 

“ No, no,” Rene exclaimed. “ Heaven protect me from that. 
Do you come, Cuthbert ; none of us mind what you say about 
our pictures. Your criticisms do not hurt. One would no 
more think of being angry with you for using your knife than 
with a surgeon for performing an operation.” 

“Very well, Rene, I will come round early. I have no doubt 
your sketch is a very good one on the whole, and after a few 
little changes it will satisfy even Goude. By the way, have you 
heard we are to elect our company officers to-morrow?” 

“ Will you stand ? I am sure you would have all our votes 
— that is twenty-five to start with, and as we know most of the 
fellows in the company we certainly could secure all those who 
have not any candidate they want to run ; besides, there are, 
of course, to be three officers, so we should be able to traffic 
votes.” 

“ No officering for me,” Cuthbert laughed. “ In the first 
place I have no greater qualifications for the post than anyone 
else, and in the second place, I am English, and though I might 
be elected — thanks to your votes — I should never be liked or 
trusted ; besides, I have not a shadow of ambition that way. 
I am going to fight if necessary. I shall have my note-book in 
my pocket, and I have no doubt that when we are lying waiting 
for our turn to come, I shall have lots of opportunities for jot- 
ting down little bits that will work into the great battle picture 
which is to have the place of honor some day in the Salon. I 
think it will certainly be pleasant to have one of our own num- 
ber among the officers, and I propose that each of us puts down 
on a slip of paper the name of the man he thinks will make the 
best leader and throw it into a hat ; then, whoever gets the 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


93 


most votes, we will all support, and, as you say, by a little traffic 
in the votes, we ought to be able to get him in among the 
three.” 

“ Are you absolutely determined not to stand ? ” 

“ Absolutely and positively. So please do not any of you put 
my name down, two or three votes thrown away like that might 
alter the decision.” 

He tore up a sheet of paper into small slips and passed them 
round. 

“ Before we begin to write,” he said, “ let it be understood 
that no one is to vote for himself. I don’t mind telling you 
who I am going to vote for. It is Henri Vancour. This is a 
matter in which it should be no question of personal liking. 
We should choose the man who appears to us best fitted for the 
post.” 

The name came as a surprise upon the others, for Henri was 
one of the last whom it would have occurred to them to choose. 
Pencils were already in their hands and they were on the point 
of writing when he spoke, and almost all would have given their 
votes either for Rene Caillard or Pierre Leroux, who were the 
two most popular men among the party. There was a pause 
for some little time before the pencils went to work. 

They had not thought of Henri, but now they did think of 
him they acknowledged to themselves that there was a good 
deal to be said in his favor. He was a Norman — quiet, hard- 
working, and even-tempered. His voice was seldom heard in 
the chorus of jokes and laughter, but when asked for an opinion 
he gave it at once concisely and decidedly. He was of medium 
height and squarely built. His face was cast in a rough mould 
and an expression of resolution and earnestness was predom- 
inant. He had never joined either in the invective against the 
Emperor, or in the confident anticipations of glorious successes 
over the Germans. 

He listened but said nothing, and when questioned would 
reply, “ Let us see some one do better than the Emperor before 
we condemn him. We will hope for the best, but so far predic- 
tions have been so wrong that it would be better to wait and 


94 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


see before we blow our trumpets.” He had but little genius, 
this young Norman, but he had perseverance and power. 

M. Goude scolded him less than others with far greater talent, 
and had once said, “ you will never be a great painter, Henri. 
I doubt if you will ever be in the first line, but you will take a 
good place in the second. You will turn out your pictures reg- 
ularly and the work will always be good and solid. You may 
not win any great prizes, but your work will be esteemed, and 
in the end you will score as heavily as some of those who pos- 
sess real genius.” 

Yes, Henri was, they all felt, now they thought it over, one 
they could rely upon. He would not lose his head, he would 
be calm in danger, as he was calm at all other times, and he 
certainly would show no lack of courage. Accordingly when 
the papers were opened he was found to have received a con- 
siderable majority of the votes. 

“Thank you for choosing me, comrades,” he said, quietly. 
“ I can only say that if elected I will do my best. A man 
can’t say more than that. Why you should have fixed upon me 
I cannot think, but that is your business. I think I can promise 
at any rate that I won’t run away.” 

When the Franc-tireurs des l^coles assembled the next morn * 
ing, half an hour was given for consultation ; then the vote was 
taken, and Henri Vancour was declared elected first Lieutenant 
of the company composed entirely of the art students, the Cap- 
tain being Frangois des Valles, who belonged to an old pro- 
vincial family, a tall, dark, handsome young man, extremely 
popular among his comrades. 

“ I think he will do very well,” Cuthbert said, as the company 
fell in. “ There is no fear of his leaving us when under fire ; 
his failing, if he has one, will be that he may want to keep us 
there too long. It is quite as necessary when you are fighting 
by the side of fellows who are not to be relied on, to know 
when to retreat as it is to know when to advance.” 

This was their first parade in uniform. This had been de- 
cided upon at the first meeting held to settle the constitution of 
the corps, and a quiet gray had been cliosen which looked neat 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


95 


and workmanlike by the side of many of the picturesque but 
inappropriate costumes, selected by the majority of the Franc- 
tireurs. They had already had three days’ drill and had 
learned to form from line into column and from column into 
line, to advance as skirmishers and to rally on the centres of 
the companies. They now marched out through the gates 
and were first taught to load the chassepots which had been 
bought by a general subscription in the schools, and then 
spent the morning in practising, and skirmishing, and advanc- 
ing and retreating in alternate files. 

When they were formed up again the old colonel said, “ You 
are getting on well, men. Two more mornings’ work and we 
w’ill go out and complete our lessons in the face of the enemy.” 

WTen dismissed at the end of the third day, they were told 
to bring next morning, the gray greatcoats and blankets that 
formed part of their uniform. “Let each man bring with him 
three days’ provisions in his bag,” the colonel said, “ ammuni- 
tion will be served out to you and you will soon learn how to 
use it to advantage.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

M. Goud^ grumbled much when he heard that his whole class 
were going to be absent for three days. 

“ A nice interruption to study,” he said, “ however, you were 
none of you doing yourselves any good, and you may as well be 
out in the fields as hanging about the streets gossiping. We 
can always talk, but during the past six weeks Paris has done 
nothing but talk. Don’t come back with any of your number 
short. You have all got something in you and are too good for 
food for Prussian powder.” 

Cuthbert went that evening to the Michauds, in his uniform, 
not for the purpose of showing it off, but because men in plain 
clothes, especially if of fair complexions, were constantly stopped 
and accused of being German spies, were often ill-treated, 
and not unfrequently had to pass a night in the cells before 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


96 

they could prove their identity. Mary gave an exclamation of 
surprise at seeing him so attired, but made no remark until 
after chatting for half an hour with the Michauds. The hus- 
band presently made the excuse that he had to attend a meet- 
ing and went off, while madame took up some knitting, settled 
herself in an easy chair, and prepared for a quiet doze, then 
Mary said in English — 

“ I have no patience with you, Cuthbert, taking part with 
these foolish people. The more I see of them the more I get 
tired of their bombast and their empty talk. Every man ex- 
pects everyone else to do something and no one does any- 
thing.” 

“They have had nothing to stir them into action yet,” he said, 
“ only the regulars and the moblots go outside the wall, and the 
National Guard are practically useless until the Germans make 
an assault. Besides, three parts of them are married men with 
families, and nothing short of their homes being in danger will 
stir them up to risk their lives. We are going out for three 
days to the outposts, we fall in at five o’clock to-morrow 
morning.” 

“ You are going to risk your life,” she said, indignantly, “ for 
the Parisians, who have no idea whatever of risking theirs. I. 
call it madness.” 

“You are going against your own doctrines. Miss Brander. 
Before you were indignant with me for doing nothing and being 
in earnest about nothing. Now that I am doing something and 
that in grim earnest, you are just as indignant as you were 
before.” 

“ I did not mean this sort of thing,” she said. 

“ No, I don’t suppose you contemplated this. But you 
wanted me to work for work’s sake, although as it seemed then 
there was no occasion for me to work.” 

“ If it had been on the other side I should not have minded.” 

“Just so,” he smiled. “You have become Germanized, I 
have not. My friends here have all enlisted ; I am going with 
them partly because they are my friends and partly because it 
is evident the Germans might have well stopped this war before 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


97 

now, but they demand terms that France can never submit to 
as long as there is the faintest hope of success. You need not 
be at all anxious about me. We are not going to attack the 
Prussian positions I can assure you. We are only going out 
to do a little outpost duty, to learn to hear the bullets flying 
without ducking, and to fire our rifles without shutting our 
eyes. I don’t suppose there are five men in the three com- 
panies who have ever fired a rifle in their lives. 

“ You see the Franc-tireurs are to a great extent independent 
of the military authorities — if you can call men military au- 
thorities who exercise next to no authority over their soldiers. 
The Franc-tireurs come and go as they choose, and a good 
many of them wear the uniform only as a means of escape from 
serving, and as a whole they are next to useless. I think our 
corps will do better things. We are all students of art, law or 
physic, and a good deal like such volunteer corps as the artists 
or ‘ Inns of Court.’ Some of the younger professors are in the 
ranks, and at least we are all of average intelligence and edu- 
cation, so I fancy we shall fight if we get a chance. I don’t 
mean now, but later on when we have gained confidence in 
ourselves and in our rifles. Just at present the Parisians are 
disposed to look upon the Germans as bogies, but this will wear 
off, and as discipline is recovered by the line, and the mobiles 
grow into soldiers, you will see that things will be very dif- 
ferent ; and although I don’t indulge in any vain fancy that we 
are going to defeat the German army, I do think that we shall 
bear ourselves like men and show something of the old French 
spirit.” 

“ That will be a change, indeed,” the girl said, scornfully. 

“ Yes, it will be a change,” he answered, quietly, “ but by no 
means an impossible one. You must not take the vaporings 
and bombast of the Paris Bourgeois or the ranting of Blanqui 
and the Belleville roughs as the voice of France. The Ger- 
mans thought that they were going to take Paris in three days. 
I doubt if they will take it in three months. If we had pro- 
visions I should say they would not take it in treble that time. 
They certainly would not do it without making regular ap- 

7 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


98 

proaches, and before they can do that they have to capture some 
of the forts. These, as you know, are manned by 10,000 sailors, 
hardy marines and Bretons, well disciplined and untainted by 
the politics which are the curse of this country. Well, I must 
be going. I have to purchase my three days’ store of provisions 
on my way back to my lodgings and shall have to turn out 
early.” 

“ Don’t do anything rash,” she said, earnestly. 

“ I can assure you rashness is not in ray line at all, and I 
don’t suppose we shall ever get within five hundred yards of a 
Prussian soldier. You need not be in the least uneasy, even 
supposing that you were inclined to fidget about me ? ” 

“ Of course, I should fidget about you,” she said, indignantly. 
“ After knowing you ever since I was a little child, naturally I 
should be very sorry if anything happened to you.” 

“ By the way,” he said, without pursuing the subject farther, 
“ I hear that there is a movement on foot for forming a corps 
of women. If they should do so it will afford you another il- 
lustration of the equality of your sex to ours in all matters, and 
I will go so far as to admit that I would much rather lead a 
company of the market-women than one composed of these 
Parisian shopkeepers.” 

“ Don’t, Mr. Hartington,” she said, appealingly, “ I don’t 
feel equal to fighting now.” 

“ Then we won’t fight. Good-bye ! If we are not lucky 
enough to light upon some empty cottages to sleep in I fancy 
the gloss will be taken out of this uniform before I see 
you again.” He picked up his cap, shook hands, and was 
gone. 

Madame Michaud woke up as the door closed. 

“ He has gone ? your tall countryman.” 

“Yes, he is going out to-morrow to the outposts. I think it 
is very silly of him and very wrong mixing up in a quarrel that 
does not concern him, especially when there are tens of thou- 
sands here in Paris who, instead of fighting for their country, 
are content to sit all day in cafes and talk.” 

“ They will fight when the time comes,” Madame Michaud 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


99 

said, complacently. “ They will fight like heroes. The Prus- 
sians will learn what Frenchmen are capable of doing.” 

But Mary had no patience just at present to listen to this sort 
of thing, and with the excuse that her head ached went at once 
to her room. 

“I do not understand these English,” Madame Michaud 
thought, as she drew the lamp nearer and resumed her knitting, 
“ here are a young woman and a young man who are more like 
comrades than lovers. She was angry, more angry than I thought 
she could be, for she is generally good-tempered, when I asked 
her, the first time he came, if they were affianch^ ‘ We are old 
friends, madame,’ she said, ‘ and nothing but friends. Cannot a 
girl have a man as a friend without there being any thought of 
love ? In England people are friends, they can talk and laugh 
to each other without any silly ideas of this sort occurring to 
them. This is one of the things that keeps woman back in the 
scale, this supposition that she is always thinking of love.’ I 
did not believe her then, but I have listened to-night when they 
thought I was asleep, and I even peeped out two or three times 
between my eyelids. I could not understand a word of what 
they said, but one can tell things by the tone without under- 
standing the words. There was no love-making. She scolded 
him and he laughed. He sat carelessly in his chair, and did 
not move an inch nearer to her. She was as straight and as 
upright as she always is. 

“ That is not the way lovers act when one is going out to 
fight. I peeped out when he shook hands with her. He did 
not hold her hand a moment, he just shook it. They are strange 
people, these English. It would be wrong for a French girl 
thus to talk to a young man, but I suppose it is different with 
them. Who can understand these strange islanders ? Why, if 
Lucien were going out to fight I should dissolve in tears, I 
should embrace him and hang on his neck ; I might even have 
hysterics, though I have never had them in my life. She is a 
good girl, too, though she has such strange ideas about women. 
What can she want for them ? I manage the house and Lucien 
goes to his office. If I say a thing is to be done in the house 


100 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


it is done. I call that equality. I cannot tell what she is 
aiming at. At times it seems to me that she is even more mad 
than her compatriots, and yet on other subjects she talks with 
good sense. What her father and mother can be about to let 
her be living abroad by herself is more than I can think. They 
must be even more mad than she is.” 

Work at M. Goudd’s school went on steadily during the in- 
tervals between the turns of the Franc-tireurs des l^coles going 
out beyond the walls. Indeed M. Goude acknowledged that 
the work was better than usual. Certainly the studio was never 
merrier or more full of life. So far from the active exercise and 
the rough work entailed by the constant vigilance necessary 
during the long night-watches, diminishing the interest of the 
young fellows in their work in the studio, it seemed to invigorate 
them, and they painted as if inflamed with the determination 
to make up for lost time. 

It converted them, in fact, for the time, from a group of care- 
less, merry young fellows, into men with a sense of responsibility. 
Their time when, away from the studio had previously been 
spent in follies and frivolities. They often drank much more 
than was good for them, smoked inordinately, were up half the 
night, and came in the morning to work with heavy heads and 
nerveless hands. Now they were soldiers, men who matched 
themselves against the invaders of their country, who risked 
their lives in her defence, and they bore themselves more 
erectly, a tone of earnestness replaced a languid indifference 
and a carelessness as to their work, and in spite of some priva- 
tions in the way of food their figures seemed to expand. 

The loss of two nights’ sleep a week rendered early hours 
necessary, and ensured sound sleep during the remaining five. 
The discipline of the studio had been relaxed. The master 
felt that at such a time he could not expect the same silent con- 
centration on work that it demanded at other times, but he 
found to his surprise that while they laughed and joked as they 
painted, they worked none the worse for this, and that in fact 
there was a general imj)rovement manifest. 

Cuthbert heartily enjoyed the change ; the prevailing tone was 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


loi 


more like that to which he was accustomed at the studios of 
St. John’s Wood than was the somewhat strict discipline that 
had before prevailed in the studio, and he enjoyed the hard 
work and excitement outside the walls. The fact that they 
w'ere running the same risks and sharing in the same work was 
an added bond of union among the students ; and, although, 
when they met, as they very frequently did in each other’s lodg 
ings, there was less uproarious fun than before ; there 
was a healthier atmosphere, and more pleasant and earnest 
talk. 

Arnold Dampierre was the only exception to the general 
rule. When in the field he evinced no want of spirit, and upon 
the contrary was always ready to volunteer w'hen a few men 
were required to crawl forward at night to ascertain the precise 
position of the Prussian outposts or to endeavor to find out 
the meaning of any stir or movement that might be heard to- 
wards their front. At other times his fits of moodiness seemed 
to increase. He was seldom present at any of the gatherings 
of his companions, but went off after work at the studio was 
over, and it was generally late at night before he returned to 
his rooms. 

Cuthbert felt that the American avoided all opportunities of 
conversation with him alone. He replied cordially enough to 
his greeting when they met, but they no longer dropped in to 
smoke a pipe in each other’s apartments as they formerly had 
done. Cuthbert had no great difficulty in guessing at the 
reasons for this change in their relations. He himself when he 
first noticed that Arnold was taking the first place with Minette 
had spoken to him half-jestingly, half-seriously, on the subject. 
He had never made any secret of his own distrust of the model, 
and in the early days of their intercourse had spoken freely 
to Arnold on the subject. He could understand that if the 
American, as it appeared, had become really attached to her, 
he would shrink from the risk of any expostulations on the 
course he had adopted. 

Cuthbert believed that his comrade was at present in a state 
of indecision, and that, although deeply in love, he had not as 


102 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


yet been able to bring himself to the idea of taking Minette 
back as his wife to his home in Louisiana. 

“ It would be sheer madness,” he said to himself, “ and yet I 
have no doubt it will end in his doing so, but as he must know 
it is a piece of stupendous folly, I can understand his reluc- 
tance to risk my speaking to him on the subject. I am awfully 
sorry for him, but I know it is one of those cases in which, 
now that it has gone as far as it has, it would be worse than 
useless to try to interfere, and would only make him more bent 
upon going through with it. I don’t see that one can do any- 
thing but trust to the chapter of accidents. Minette, dazzled 
as she might be by the prospect of marrying a gentleman and a 
man of property, might still hesitate to do so if it would entail 
her having to leave Paris and live abroad. 

“ I have no doubt that she is very fond of Dampierre, but 
she may change her mind. He may be killed before this busi- 
ness is over. He may decide to return to America directly the 
siege ends, with the idea of coming over to fetch her afterwards, 
and either he may get over his infatuation, or on his return 
may find that some one else has supplanted him in her affec- 
tions. I should not fancy that constancy would be one of her 
strong points ; at any rate I do not see that I can do any good 
by meddling in the matter, though if Dampierre spoke to me 
about it, I should certainly express my opinion frankly. It is 
much the best that things should go on between us as they are 
now doing. He is a hot-headed beggar, and the probabilities 
are strong in the favor of our having a serious quarrel if the 
subject were ever broached between us.” 

One evening Cuthbert had taken up a book after his return 
from the studio, and sat reading until it was long past his usual 
dinner hour before he went out. He passed through several 
badly lighted streets on his way to the restaurant in the Palais 
Royal, where he intended to dine. There were but few people 
about, for the evening was wet. He was vaguely conscious that 
some one was going in the same direction as himself, for he 
heard footsteps following him a short distance behind. In one 
of the worst lighted and most silent streets the steps suddenly 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


103 


quickened. Cuthbert turned sharply round. He was but just 
in time, for a man who had been following him was on the point 
of springing upon him with uplifted arm. 

Cuthbert felt rather than saw that there was a knife in his 
hand, and struck straight from the shoulder at his face ; the 
fellow was in the act of striking when he received the blow. He 
fell as if shot, the knife, flying from his hand, clattering on the 
pavement several yards away. Cuthbert stood for a moment 
prepared to strike again if the man rose, but as he made no 
movement he turned on his heel and walked on. 

“ It would serve him right if I were to give the scoundrel in 
charge for attempted murder,” he said, “ but it would give me 
no end of bother. It would not be worth the trouble, and he 
has been pretty well punished. I have cut my knuckles, and I 
imagine that w’hen he comes to he will find himself minus some 
of his teeth. I wonder what his object was — robbery, I suppose 
— and yet it is hardly likely that the fellow would have singled 
me out and decided to kill me on the off chance of finding some- 
thing worth taking. He could not have seen that I have a 
watch on, for my greatcoat is buttoned. It is more like an act 
of private revenge, but I have never given anyone of that class 
any reason to dislike me. Cartainly the man followed me for 
some distance, for I have heard the steps behind me ever since 
I turned off into these quiet streets. 

“ By the way,” he exclaimed, suddenly, “ I should not be at 
all surprised if he took me for Dampierre. We are about the 
same height, and although I am a good many inches wider than 
he is, that might not be noticed in the dark. If the fellow was 
watching outside the door, and had known nothing of there 
being another man of the same height in the house, he might 
very well have taken me for Arnold. He spends half his time 
up at Montmartre, and may likely enough have given offence to 
some of the ruffians up there ; when he is not in a pleasant 
temper he does not mind what he says. Possibly, too, the 
fellow may be an admirer of Minette, and the thing may be this 
outcome of jealousy. At any rate I will tell him in the morning 
about the affair and let him take warning by it if he chooses.” 


04 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Accordingly, next morning he waited outside in the street 
for Arnold, who was generally the last to arrive at the studio. 

“ Rather an unpleasant thing happened yesterday evening, 
Dampierre. I was followed from here and attacked suddenly 
in one of the back streets leading up to the Boulevards. I had 
heard footsteps behind me for a little time and had a vague 
sort of idea that I was being followed. The fellow ran up sud- 
denly and I had just time to turn and hit out. He was in the 
act of striking with a knife, and if I had been a second later he 
would probably have settled me. As it was I knocked him 
down and I fancy I stunned him. At any rate he did not move, 
so I walked on. Of course it may have been a mere vulgar 
attempt at murder and robbery, but from the fact that this man 
followed me for some considerable distance I should say it was 
not so, but a question of revenge. I don’t know that anyone 
in Paris has any cause of quarrel with me, but the idea after- 
wards occurred to me that it might be that he took me for you. 
We are about the same height, and if he was watching the 
house he might, when I came out, mistake one for the other. 
Of course I have not a shadow of reason for supposing that 
you have an enemy, but at any rate I thought it as well to tell 
you about it, so that you might be on your guard, as I shall 
certainly be, in the future.” 

Arnold was silent for a minute. 

“ I should not be surprised if you are right, Hartington ; they 
are a rough lot at Montmartre, and it is possible that I may, 
without knowing it, have rubbed some of them the wrong way. 
I suppose you did not notice what he was like ? ” 

“ No, it was too dark, and the whole affair too sudden for 
me to see anything of the features. He was in a blouse with the 
low cap workmen generally wear. I should say he stood four 
or five inches shorter than we do — about five feet eight or so. 
He was a square-built fellow. If you happen to come across 
him I fancy you may recognize him, not from my description 
but from my handiwork. You see,” and he pointed to his right 
hand, which was wrapped up in an handkerchief, “ I hit him 
iiard and have cut two of my knuckles pretty badly — I fancy 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


105 

against his teeth. If so, I think it likely that two or three of 
them will be missing, and as a man of that sort is hardly likely 
to go at once to a dentist to have the gap filled up, it may 
prove a guide to you. 

“ For the next day or two his lips are sure to be swollen 
pretty badly. Of course if you have no one in your mind’s eye 
as being specially likely to make an attempt upon your life 
these little things will afford you no clue whatever, but if you 
have any sort of suspicion that one of three or four men might 
be likely to have a grudge against you, they may enable you to 
pick out the fellow who attempted my life. Of course I may 
be mistaken altogether and the fellow may have been only an 
ordinary street ruffian. Personally it won’t make much difference 
to me, for I am pretty handy with my fists, but as I know you 
have had no practice that way, I recommend you always to carry 
a pistol when you go out at night.” 

“ I always do, Hartington ; I always have one in each pocket 
of my coat.” 

“ Well, they may be useful, but I should recommend you to 
be careful, and to walk in the middle of the street when you are 
in doubtful neighborhoods. A pistol is very good in its way, 
but it takes time to get it out, and cock it, while one’s fist is 
always ready for service at an instant’s notice.” 

By this time they had arrived at the door of the studio. Arnold 
made no allusion to the subject for some days, and then meet- 
ing Cuthbert at the door of his house, said — 

“ By the way, Hartington, I have reason to believe that you 
were right that that blow you luckily escaped was meant for me. 
However, I don’t think there will be any recurrence of the 
matter ; in fact, I may say that I am sure there won’t.” 

“ That is all right then, Dampierre. Of course I don’t want 
the matter followed up in any way, and should not have spoken 
about it had I not thought that I ought to give you warning. 

“ I feel very much indebted to you anyhow, Hartington. 
Probably had I been in your place the matter would have gone 
altogether differently.” 

Arnold had in fact learnt with absolute certainty who had 


io6 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


been Cuthbert’s assailant. When he went up to Montmartre he 
told Minette what had happened, and added : “ He suspects 

that the scoundrel took him in the dark for me.” 

“ Why should any one bear ill-will to you 1 ” Minette asked. 

“ That I can’t say, but I do think that very likely he is right. - 
He keeps himself to himself, never attends meetings of any 
kind, and can hardly have made an enemy, while it is possible 
that I may have done so.” 

Minette was thoughtful for some time, and when her father 
joined them and said that it was time to be off to a meetings 
she asked him abruptly — 

“ Have you seen Jean Diantre to-day? ” 

“ Ay, I have seen him, and a pretty sight he is.” 

“ How is that, father ? ” 

“ He took more liquor than was good for him and got a bad 
fall as he was going upstairs to his room, and as luck would 
have it, his mouth caught the edge of the stone step. His lips 
were all cut and swollen to four times their usual size and three 
of his teeth are out. Mon Dieu, what a crash he must have 
got ! He has been drinking a great deal lately, and I have 
warned him over and over again that he would get himself into 
trouble ; but as a rule liquor does not affect him that way, he 
gets sulky and bad-tempered, but he can generally walk steadily 
enough.” 

“Father, you must come with us to his lodgings,” Minette 
exclaimed. “ I have something to say to him. I suppose he is 
up?” 

“ But it is time to be at the meeting Minette. What do you 
want to see him for ? ” 

“ Never mind the meeting,” she said, impatiently. “ We 
shall be there before it is done. It is more important that I 
should see Jean.” 

“ Well, if it must be, it must,” Dufaure grumbled, shrugging 
his shoulders. “ When you take a thing into your head I know 
it is of no use talking. ” 

Jean Diantre was sitting wdth two or three of his mates in his 
attic over a small brazier of charcoal. They rose in surprise at 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


107 

the entrance of Minette and her father, followed by the Ameri- 
can. The girl, without speaking, walked straight up to Jean. 

“ I knew you were a miserable,” she said, bitterly, “ a drunk- 
en, worthless scamp, but until now I did not know you were 
a murderer. Yes, comrades, this man with whom you sit and 
smoke is a miserable assassin. Yesterday evening he tried to 
take the life of Arnold Dampierre here, whom you all know as 
a friend of freedom and a hater of tyranny. This brave com- 
panion of yours had not the courage to meet him face to face, 
but stole up behind him in the dark, and in another moment 
would have slain the man he was following, when the tables 
were turned. The man he had followed was not Arnold Dam- 
pierre but another ; and before this wretch could strike with his 
knife, he knocked him down, stunned him, and left him like a 
dog that he is on the pavement. No doubt he has told you the 
lie that he told my father, that he fell while going upstairs drunk. 
It was a blow of the fist that has marked him as you see. The 
man he had tried to murder did not even care to give him in 
charge. He despised this cur too much, and yet the fellow 
may think himself fortunate. Had it been Monsieur Dampierre 
it would not have been a fist but a bullet through his head that 
would have punished him. Now mark me, Jean Diantre,” and 
she moved a pace forward, so suddenly that the man started 
back, “you are a known assassin and poltroon. If at any time 
harm befalls Monsieur Dampierre I will stab you with my own 
hand. If you ever dare to speak to me again I will hold you 
up to the scorn of the women of the quarter. As it is, your 
comrades have heard how mean and cowardly a scoundrel you 
are. You had best move from Montmartre at once, for when 
this is known no honest man will give you his hand, no man 
who respects himself will work beside you. Hide yourself 
elsewhere, for if you stay here I will hound you down,' I will 
see that you have not an hour’s peace of your life. We reds 
have our ideas, but we are not assassins. We do not sneak 
after a man to stab him in the dark, and when we have arms 
in our hands we are not to be beaten like curs by an unarmed 
man.’- 


io8 


A GIRL OF I HE COMMUNE, 


The other men had shrunk back from him as she spoke. Jean 
quailed beneath her torrent of contemptuous words and from 
the fury in her eyes. There was no doubting the fact that her 
charges were true. 

Who drove me to it t ” he said sullenly through his swollen 
lips. 

“ Who drove you ! Drink and your evil temper drove you to 
it. You wanted to marry me— me who never gave you a word 
of encouragement ; who knew you au fond,, who knew that you 
were at the best an idle, worthless scamp, and would never have 
married you had there been no other living man in the universe. 
But enough. I have said what I came to say, and you had best 
take warning. Come, father, you have stood this fellow’s friend, 
and you have been wrong, but you know him now.” 

Minette passed out through the door Arnold held open for 
her ; her father and Arnold followed, and the four other men, 
without a word to Jean Diantre, went down the stairs after them, 
leaving him to himself. 


CHAPTER IX. 

“ It is hardly worth while, Minette,” Arnold said, when they 
reached the street, “ the man has had his lesson.” 

“ I could not help it, dear,” she said, in a voice so changed 
from that in which she had spoken to Jean Diantre, that no one 
would have recognized it as the same ; “ he had tried to kill you, 
to take you from me. He thought it was you w^ho had struck 
him and hated you worse than ever. It is not because he has 
failed once that he might fail another time. I should never have 
had a moment’s peace when you were away from me, but I think 
now you will be safe ; he will remove his quarters and go to 
Villette or to the South side ; he will not dare to show his face 
in Montmartre again. You are sure you always carry your 
pistol, Arnold ? ” 

“ Yes, I promised you I would and I have done so. I have 
a small revolver in each pocket.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


109 

“ Then in future, when you are out at night promise me al- 
ways to walk with one hand in your pocket, holding the butt of 
your pistol, so that you can draw and fire instantly. He know^s 
you have pistols and will not dare to attack you singly, and 
even should he find two or three villains as bad as himself you 
would be a match for them.” 

“ I will take care of myself, Minette, but I do not think it 
likely that he will renew the attempt. I could see that the man 
was a coward. He was as pale as a sheet, partly with rage 
that he had been discovered and exposed, but partly, I am 
sure, from fear too. I know you meant well, dear, but I would 
rather that you had not done it. I love you best when you are 
gentle and womanly. You almost frighten me when you blaze 
out like that.” 

“ I am sorry,” she said, penitently ; “ but I felt for the time 
mad that your life should have been attempted. I scarcely 
knew what I was saying. Do you think that anyone could be 
gentle and mild when she had just heard that her lover, her all, 
had been almost taken from her by a cowardly blow. Still I 
know I am wrong. Do not be angry with me, Arnold.” 

“ I am not angry, dear,” he said, and truly, for no man can 
feel really angry with a woman for over-zeal in his own cause. 
“ Do not let us say any more about it ; the fellow is not worth a 
thought. We shall probably never hear of him again.” 

“ I hope not, Arnold, but after what he tried to do I shall 
never feel quite free from anxiety so long as you are in Paris. 
I wish your English friend had handed him over to the 
police.” 

“ I have no doubt he would have done so, but, as he told me, 
the idea that the fellow was anything else than a street-ruffian 
did not come to him till afterwards. You know what a business 
it is bringing a charge of any kind here, and Hartington hav- 
ing himself punished him* pretty severely did not care for the 
trouble of carrying it further.” 

The news was rapidly spread in the cabarets by the men who 
had been present at Minette’s denunciation that Jean Dian- 
tre had endeavored to assassinate the American, and much indig- 


no 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


nation was excited. Had he drawn a knife upon a fellow-work- 
man over their wine, the matter would have excited but slight 
reprobation, but that he should have crept up in the dark to 
attempt to assassinate one who was a denouncer of tyrants, a 
representative of the great Republic, was voted to be infamous. 

Various punishments were suggested as appropriate for such 
a crime, but Jean did not appear at his accustomed haunts in 
the morning, and inquiry showed that he had paid his rent the 
evening before, had sold his furniture for a few francs to one 
of the other lodgers in the house, and had left the quarter alto- 
gether. Resolutions were passed at the next meeting denounc- 
ing him as a traitor to the sacred cause of humanity, and then 
the matter was forgotten altogether save by Minette. 

As time went on, the luxuries of life altogether disappeared 
from the shop-windows, but there was still no lack of the ab- 
solute necessaries. The stores of corn and rice turned out to 
be vastly larger than had been supposed. The herds of cattle 
gathered under shelter of the guns of the forts had disappeared, 
but horseflesh was still fairly abundant. Vegetables were not 
dear, for numbers of people went out every morning to the gar- 
dens and fields surrounding Paris and returned laden with 
them. 

The animals in the public collection were all killed and the 
carcasses of all the eatable creatures sold at high prices, and 
for a time elephant steak, camel hump, venison, and other meats 
could be purchased at restaurants, although no doubt the horse 
furnished the foundation of the greater portion of these 
dishes. 

The swans and other aquatic birds fetched fabulous prices, 
and their purchase was the occasion of many banquets in houses 
where such entertainments had become rare. Still there were 
no signs that the time when Paris was to make its attempt to 
burst its bonds was at hand. Among’the National Guard com- 
plaints at the long inaction were incessant, but .there was good 
reason for doubt whether the discontent was as general as it 
seemed. 

It was one thing to talk of sweeping the Prussians before 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. IJI 

them, quite another to take a part in the performance. Still 
the steady drilling that went on had its effect. If the 
National Guard did not learn discipline they at least gained 
the power to make a respectable appearance and to go through 
simple manoeuvres fairly. 

They walked more erect and even assumed a military swagger 
and spoke somew'hat contemptuously of the line and mobiles, 
whose discipline was as lax as their own, and among whom 
drunkenness was rife, for whatever else failed, the supply of 
wine and spirits appeared inexhaustible. Cuthbert went not 
unfrequently to dine at the English restaurant of Phipson, 
where the utter and outspoken contempt of the proprietor for 
the French in general, and the Parisians in particular, amused 
him greatly. 

“To see these fellows giving themselves military airs when 
they take care never to get within gunshot of the enemy, it is 
enough to make one’s blood boil, Mr. Hartington. I believe 
that a couple of score of stable-boys with pitchforks would lick 
a battalion of them, and it is worse still when one goes out on 
the Boulevards and sees them sitting at the cafes drinking their 
absinthe as if there was no enemy wdthin a hundred yards of 
the place. I have never liked them, sir, but I am downright 
sickened by them now. I shall sell out as soon as this is 
over.” 

“ I don’t think they are as bad as they seem, Phipson. If 
the Prussians ever do force a way into Paris, I think you will 
see that these fellows can fight and fight desperately.” 

“ So will a rat, Mr. Hartington, if you corner him, but he will 
run as long as he gets the chance. I think it will do them a 
world of good, and take down some of their cockyness, if the 
Prussians did come in. I could not stand it, and as you see I 
have put my shutters up, and only let in English customers I 
know. I tell you I can’t bring myself to serving horseflesh. I 
have got a few first-rate hams still hanging in the cellar. As 
long as they last and I can pick up anything fit for a human 
being to sit down to, I shall go on, but I ain’t going to give my 
customers grub that is only fit for hounds. I have not come 


112 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


down to be a cat’s-meat man yet. As to drink, I have got as 
you know a goodish supply of as fine whisky as ever was 
brewed, but it won’t be long before that will be the only thing 
I shall have to sell. I see you still stick to your soldiering, 
Mr. Hartington.” 

“ Oh, 5^es, now I have begun, I shall go through with it, 
though it is not so pleasant as it was a month ago, for the 
nights are getting cold ; still there is plenty of excitement about 
it, and we manage to keep the Prussians awake as well as our- 
selves. Whatever it may be with the National Guard there is 
plenty of pluck among the students. I could not wish to have 
better comrades.” 

“Well, there is one advantage, sir, in that uniform. You 
can go about without being suspected of, for being a foreigner 
is just the same in the eyes of these chaps as being a spy. It 
is rum now that while this place is pretty nigh kept up by the 
money the English and Americans spend here, they don’t like 
us not one bit.” 

“ How do you make that out, Phipson ? ” 

“ I don’t know that I can make it out at all. I take it it is 
because we have always licked them, sir, and always shall do. 
There was the old days when the Black Prince thrashed them. 
I am a Canterbury boy and have seen his armor hanging up in 
the Cathedral many a time ; that is how I came to know about 
him, and then I have heard that Marlborough used to crumple 
them up whenever he met them ; and then there was Welling- 
ton again. Why, they have never had so much as a chance with 
us, and on sea we have licked them worse than on land. Well, 
it ain’t in nature men should like that.” 

“ Those are old stories, Phipson, and I don’t think they have 
much to do with the dislike the French have of us. I think it 
is more because they cannot help seeing for themselves that 
they are no longer the first power in the world, and that Eng- 
land has passed them in the race.” 

“That may have something to do with it, sir, but from what 
I have heard them say and from what I have seen myself, I 
think it is partly because Frenchmen find themselves but poor 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


*13 

sort of creatures by the side of most Euglishmen. I have heard 
them say that Englishmen walked about the streets of Paris 
just as if the place belonged to them, and there ain’t no doubt 
that an Englishman does somehow or other put his foot down 
and square his shoulders in a way you never see a Frenchman 
do. I have noticed it myself many a time, and then, if he does 
get into a row with a Frenchman, the fellow hasn’t a chance 
with him. I expect that galls him a bit. Anyhow they don’t 
like it. They don’t hate the Americans so much as they do us, 
though why they shouldn’t is more than I can see, for there ain’t 
much difference between us, except that there are very few of 
them who know how to use their hands. Well, anyhow, I shall 
be glad to have done with the French, though I will say for 
them that the lot that uses my place is a good deal better than 
the generality. For the most part they dress as English ; that 
is to say they get their clothes made by English tailors, but lor’ 
bless you, it ain’t no use. They can’t wear them when they 
have got them, not to look easy and comfortable in them. I 
have scores of times wondered what the difference is and I could 
not tell you to save my life, but for all that I can tell a French- 
man the moment he comes in, no matter how he’s got up. 
There ain’t no occasion for them to open their mouths. I can 
spot them as easy as one could tell the difference between a 
thorough-bred and a common roadster.” 

As a rule the Franc-tireurs des iScoles went out on the 
southern or western sides of Paris, but one morning they 
marched out to St. Denis. 

“ There has been some pretty hot skirmishing on that side,” 
the colonel said to his officers before starting, “ and I have 
been asked to march you out in that direction, and to take 
up the outpost duties on a portion of the line there. The 
troops have been having a pretty hard time of it, and have been 
pushed backward once or twice, though they have always ended 
by winning back the ground they had lost. We have a reputa- 
tion of keeping our eyes open, and the General told me this 
morning that I might consider it as a compliment we were senl 
there.” 


114 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNk. 


They were marched to a small cluster of houses and relieved 
two companies of the line who had been on duty there during 
the night. It was the first time a specific post had been as- 
signed to them, and the men were in high spirits at what they 
considered an honor. The authorities treated the Franc- 
tireurs as being valueless for any real fighting : as being use- 
ful to a certain extent for harassing the enemies’ outposts, but 
not to be counted upon for any regular work, and so omitted 
them . altogether in the orders assigning the positions to be 
occupied. The corps therefore considered it a feather in their 
caps to be assigned a position by the side of the regulars. The 
fires of the troops were still burning, and the men were soon at 
work cooking their breakfast, one company being thrown out 
in the front of the village. 

The houses all bore signs of the strife. Some were almost 
unroofed, others had yawning holes in the walls, the work of 
shell from the Prussian field-guns, while all were pitted with 
scars of bullets on the side facing the enemy. Scarce a pane 
of glass remained intact. The floors had been torn up for 
firing and the furniture had shared the same fate. A breast- 
work had been thrown up some fifty yards in front of the viF 
lage and the houses had been connected by earthen walls, so 
that if the outwork were taken the place could be defended 
until reinforcements came up. 

A hundred yards to the left there was a battery of six guns, 
and another on a mound four or five hundred yards to the 
right. In the daytime their fire covered the village, and there 
was little chance of the Germans attempting an attack until 
after nightfall. The enemy occupied in force a village of some 
size five hundred yards away, and had covered it with strong 
earthworks. Their outposts faced those of the French with an 
interval of some two hundred yards between them. The 
sentries on duty were stationed at distances varying from ten 
to twenty paces apart, behind walls or banks of earth. The 
enemies’ outposts were similarly protected. 

Shots were exchanged at intervals throughout the day be- 
tween French batteries on the right and left and a redoubt the 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Germans had thrown up on a rise four or five hundred yards 
behind their village; the gunners on both sides occasionally 
directing their fire upon the houses ; the outposts were for the 
most part silent, as it was seldom indeed that even a momentary 
glimpse was obtained of helmet or kepi, and the orders were 
that there was to be no useless firing. 

During the day the companies took turn at outpost duty, but 
when night fell the line was strengthened, half the men being 
under rifles, while the rest lay down with their arms by their side, 
ready to fall in at a moment’s notice. A dropping fire was 
kept up on both sides, but this was rather for the purpose of 
showing that they were on the alert than with any idea of harm- 
ing the invisible foe. 

At ten o’clock Cuthbert went out with the half-company to 
which he belonged, to relieve their comrades who had been for 
the last three hours in the front line. They had been some 
little time on duty when Pierre Leroux, who was in charge of 
the half-company, said to Des Valles, who commanded the whole 
of the outposts — 

“ It seems to me that I can hear a deep sound ; it comes in 
pulsations, and I think it is a considerable body of men march- 
ing.” 

The captain listened with bent head for a short time. 

“ You are right, Pierre, there is certainly a movement of 
some sort going on in front, but I fancy it is some distance 
away ; if they were marching on the village in front we should 
hear it more plainly. You had better send out three or four 
men from your right — let them go some distance along before 
they attempt to creep forward. The Prussian sentries are too 
thick along there facing us, but the men might possibly crawl 
pretty close up to their outposts farther along, they won’t be so 
thick there. Pick four good men, it is a dangerous serv- 
ice. Tell them to get as near as they can to their sentries 
without being observed, and then to lie and listen atten- 
tively. They will have a better chance of hearing there than 
we have. There is no getting the men to lie perfectly quiet 
here.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Ii6 

“Can I take three men and go myself with them, Des 
Valles ? ” 

“Yes, if you like. I will stop with the company until you 
return.” 

The lieutenant went along the line, stopping at each man to 
ask his name. He chose Cuthbert and two men, one from each 
of the principal art schools, as he thought it might look like 
favoritism if he took all from among his own comrades. The 
sentries became more and more scattered as he went along, the 
main body being posted in front of the village. The last few 
men were warned that he was going forward, and that they 
were not to fire until he returned. He sent the last man on 
the line to communicate with the outposts, furnished by the 
corps occupying the ground farther to the right, that some men 
were going out to reconnoitre. Then he and his companions 
cautiously crawled forward. 

They were rather more than half-way across the ground, 
when Cuthbert uttered an exclamation as he came in sudden 
contact with a figure advancing with similar caution in the 
opposite direction. It needed not a guttural oath in German to 
inform him that it was an enemy. Touching as they were, 
neither could use their arms, and instinctively they grappled 
with each other as they lay on the ground. 

“ Look out, Leroux, I have got hold of a German,” Cuthbert 
said in a low voice, while at the same moment his antagonist 
said something to the same effect in German. 

The lieutenant and the other two men leapt to their feet, 
and as they did so, four or five men sprang up close in front 
of them. 

“ Fire ! ” Leroux exclaimed, and the two men discharged their 
pieces ! Some shots flashed out in front of them but in the 
darkness none were hit, and in a moment they were engaged in 
a hand-to-hand fight with their foes. 

In the meantime Cuthbert and his antagonist were rolling 
over and over, locked closely in each other’s arms. Seizing a 
moment when he came uppermost, Cuthbert steadied himself, 
relaxed his hold of his opponent, and, half-kneeling, managed 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


I17 

to free himself from his embrace, and gripped him by the 
throat. 

The fight between the others was a short one. The lieu- 
tenant had run one of his opponents through the body, but a 
German had equalized matters by bringing the butt of his mus- 
ket down on the head of one of the Franc-tireurs, and being 
now but two against four, Pierre called to the other to retreat. 
The Germans followed a few yards and then halted. As they 
passed him Cuthbert gave a final squeeze to his antagonist’s 
throat, and, feeling sure that he would not be able to speak for 
some time, he crept away for a few yards and lay still among 
the cabbages that covered the field. 

“ Where is the sergeant ? ” one of the Germans said, in a low 
voice, as they retraced their steps ; “ he must have been some- 
where here when he called.” 

After two or three minutes’ search they came upon him. 

“ He is alive,” one of them said, stooping over him, “ he is 
gasping for breath. I think he is dying, but, anyhow, we may 
as well carry him in.” 

They lifted the man, and as they did so several shots rang 
out from the French outposts. As soon as they had gone on 
Cuthbert sat up to listen. He could hear now the heavy tread 
of men who were, it seemed to him, crossing from the right to- 
wards the German village. He listened for a minute or two 
to assure himself that he was not mistaken, and then crawled 
back towards his own outposts. 

“ Don’t fire,” he said, when he knew that he must be near to 
them, “ I am one of those who went out just now.” 

“ Don’t fire,” he heard a voice he knew to be the lieuten- 
ant’s repeat, “ It is Hartington. I was afraid he was done for.” 
A minute later he joined him. 

At this moment a sharp fire broke out from the German lines, 
showing that their party had also returned to their outposts. 

“ You will find Des Valles farther along, Hartington ; if you 
have anything to report you had better go to him at once, you 
can tell me afterwards how you escaped. I had quite given 
you up.” 


ii8 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ I suppose I had better go to him,” Cuthbert said, “ but I 
have not much to report except that there is no doubt the noise 
we heard was caused by a heavy column of men marching into 
the village over there.” 

Cuthbert found the captain and made his report. 

“ Thank you, Hartington. We were pretty well convinced 
it was so, for even before the firing between your party and the 
Germans began, the sound was loud enough to be clearly dis- 
tinguished. I suppose you can give no guess at their numbers ? ” 

“ They were a strong body, but how strong I could not tell. 
A hundred Prussians marching will make as much noise as five 
hundred Frenchmen, but even allowing for that I should think 
there will be at least one strong battalion, perhaps more.” 

“ If that is the case we must be on the lookout. Of course 
they may fancy we mean to attack them, but on the other hand 
they may intend to push forward. I will go with you to the 
colonel ; he ought to know what you think about it. He was 
along here a few minutes ago, but the noise was not so plain 
then, and we did not estimate the force to be anything like as 
strong as it is in your opinion.” 

Cuthbert made his report to the colonel, and the latter at 
once went forward with Des Valles to the outposts, after giving 
orders for the men in the houses to fall in at once and be ready 
either to advance to support the front line, or to man the bar- 
ricades and houses and cover their retreat. Reaching the out- 
posts the sound of marching was no longer heard, but there was 
a faint continuous murmur which could be plainly made out in 
the intervals of the fire kept up by the enemy. 

“What do you think it is, Des Valles?” the colonel asked, 
after listening some time. 

“ I should say, sir, that the column has broken up in the 
village, and the men are making their way to the front in open 
order. If I were to suggest, Colonel, I should say it would be 
as well to send off men to the two batteries to tell them that 
the enemy are mustering in force in the village opposite to us 
and that we expect to be attacked, and also to the officers com- 
manding the troops on either side of us.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


119 

Four men were at once despatched, and ten minutes later the 
batteries almost simultaneously opened fire on the village. As 
if it had been a signal a crashing volley was fired from the 
line held by the German outposts. 

“ Here they come ! ” the colonel shouted, “ steady, men, wait 
till you see them ; then open fire upon them as quickly as you 
can load, but aim steadily. Captain Des Valles, will you warn 
the line to the left that they are, when the word is given, to 
retreat at the double, bearing away first to the left so as to 
clear the ground for the fire from the houses. As soon as they 
are abreast of them they are to enter at the rear and aid in the 
defence. Captain Rainault, will you take similar orders away 
to the right ? Ah, here they are.” 

As he spoke a storm of musketry broke out all along the line 
as a dark mass could be seen approaching. But the enemy 
were too strong to be resisted, and in a few seconds the colonel 
shouted the orders to retreat. Then at the top of their speed 
the Franc-tireurs ran back, and the instant they cleared off 
from the front of the houses the colonel shouted to the officer 
in command there to open fire. 

In half a minute the Franc-tireurs were in the enclosure. 
Each company had already had its position in case of attack 
assigned to it. For a short time only those on the side facing 
the enemy were engaged, but the Prussians speedily overlapped 
the position and attacked it on all sides. Several times they 
rushed up close to the barricades, but the fire was so hot that 
they were compelled to fall back again. The circle of fire 
afforded the gunners in the battery sufficient indication as to 
the position of the defenders, and their shell fell rapidly both 
in front and behind it. 

The fight had lasted but a few minutes when a crashing 
volley was fired from the left. The attack on the houses at 
once slackened, as the Prussians turned to oppose the reinforce- 
ments that had come up ; but when, shortly afterwards, the 
regiment from the other side also reached the scene of action 
their commander felt the surprise had failed, and the Prussians 
retired to their former position, and the affair was over. Four 


120 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


companies of the line were left to strengthen the position should 
the enemy try another attack before daybreak, and then, after 
congratulating the colonel of the Franc-tireurs on the vigilance 
that had prevented his being taken by surprise, and the sturdy 
defence he had made, the officers of the line withdrew their men 
to the positions they had before occupied. 

The loss of the Franc-tireurs was small. The volley that 
had preceded the attack had done no execution whatever, and 
as they had fought in shelter they had lost but eight men killed 
and a score wounded. It was the sharpest affair in which they 
had as yet been engaged, and the old colonel was highly pleased 
with the result. After the outpost had resumed their former 
position Cuthbert related to his comrades the particulars of 
his struggle with the Prussian sergeant. 

“ We were pretty well matched,” he said, “ and I suppose were 
equally surprised when we found each other grappling in the 
dark. Of course neither of us knew how many supporters 
the other had close at hand, but the first thought that struck me 
was that I must silence him if possible before his comrades 
came to his assistance. I was only afraid that I should not be 
able to shake myself free from his grip so as to get to his throat, 
but fortunately he relaxed his hold the moment he felt that I 
had loosened mine, and as I was on the top of him the rest was 
easy.” 

“ Well, you got well out of it anyhow, Hartington,” Pierre 
said. “ You did not see anything of the man who was knocked 
down by a musket, did you ? ” 

“ No, it did not occur to me to look for him, but if you like 
I will go out with you and bring him in.” 

“ That is a very good idea, Hartington, probably he was only 
stunned. I will go and get leave for us to do so.” 

However, just as he turned to go a call was heard in front, 
and a minute later the man came in. 

“ He had,” he said, when he recovered consciousness, “ heard 
a tremendous fire going on, and as soon as he could collect his 
thoughts became assured that the enemy must be attacking the 
village. He therefore concluded that the best thing was to lie 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


I2I 


Still, 'which he did until the fire ceased and he could hear the 
Prussians retreating. Then he had crawled in until close to the 
line of outposts.” 

“ I am heartily glad to see you back again,” Pierre said, 
shaking him by the hand. “ It would always have been a 
subject of regret to me if the expedition that I proposed had 
lost you your life. As to those who fell in defence of the vil- 
lage I have no personal responsibility, but I should certainly 
have felt that your death always lay at my door.” 


CHAPTER X. 

Another month and a great change had come over Paris. 
The spirit of empty gasconnade had been succeeded by one 
more befitting the time and circumstances. As the hopes of 
assistance from without lessened, the spirit of resistance grew 
stronger and firmer. There was no longer any talk of sweep- 
ing the Prussians out of France, no longer was it an article of 
faith that Paris would be saved ; but the thought of surrender 
was farther than ever from men’s minds. Paris would resist 
to the last. She would give time to France to reorganize her- 
self, and would set such an example of devotion and patience 
under suffering, that when at last famine forced her to sur- 
render, the world should at least say that Paris had proved 
herself worthy of her reputation. 

The defences had been strengthened to an enormous extent ; 
the outlying forts which, when the siege began, could have 
been carried without much difficulty by a resolute attack, had 
now been rendered practically impregnable, their approaches 
had been thickly mined, obstacles of all sorts erected round 
them, and the casements, barracks, and magazines protected 
by coverings of trunks of trees and so great a depth of earth 
as to be able to defy the heaviest shell. 

The walls of the enciente had been repaired and greatly 
strengthened, and covered by bastions and other works, so 
that even were one of the forts taken the work of the enemy 


122 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


would but be begun. The theatres had been closed from the 
first. The cafes chantants, and the open-air concerts had long 
since followed the example, partly because of the increasing 
seriousness of the temper of the people, partly because of the 
failure of the gas. The cafes themselves were no longer 
crowded until midnight ; the dim lights of the lamps that had 
taken the place of gas gave a sombre air to these establish- 
ments, and by eight o’clock in the evening most of them put 
up their shutters. 

The National Guard were being reorganized. From each 
battalion, three or four hundred of the most able-bodied, for 
the most part unmarried, men, had by order of the Govern- 
ment, been selected and formed into companies for service in 
the field, and these promised in a short time to develop into 
troops equal in physique and spirit to the mobiles, and vastly 
superior to the line. 

Ladies no longer appeared in the streets in rich dresses. It 
was felt that these were out of place now, and all adornments 
had been rigidly given up, and the women of the better class 
set the example of dressing in the simplest of costumes and 
the quietest of colors. Great numbers had devoted themselves 
to the services of the hospitals and ambulances, and spent the 
whole of their time in ministering to the sick and wounded. 

As yet there was little real suffering in Paris, and the pri- 
vations and inconveniences were borne uncomplainingly, and 
even cheerfully. Beef had become almost unobtainable, but 
it was agreed that horse-flesh was not a bad substitute ; cats 
and dogs were fast disappearing from the streets, and their 
flesh, prepared in a- variety of ways, took the place on the 
cards of the restaurants of hares and game, and the change 
was hardly noticed. 

Cuthbert was working hard. The school was now definitely 
closed, but those who liked to do so were free to work there 
when they chose. M. Goudd had taken advantage of the ces- 
sation of lessons to paint on his own account, and was engaged 
upon a large canvas which he announced was intended for the 
Salon. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


123 


“All this,” he said, “has wiped away old quarrels. If I 
were fit for it I would do as so many of the artists of Paris 
have done — take my place in the ranks — but I am past the age 
for marching and sleeping in ditches ; but I can entertain no 
further anger against men who are fighting for France. It is 
the duty of those who cannot fight to paint. When the Salon 
opens we must show the world that, in spite of these barbarians, 
France still holds her head high, and is at the head of civiliza- 
tion.” 

Cuthbert, however, was not among the number of those who 
used the painting-room. He had chosen his lodging so as to 
have a north light, and kept his door closed from early morn- 
ing until the light faded. An ardor for work had seized him, 
and it was with reluctance that he put aside his brush when the 
day’s work was over. He was engaged upon two pictures, and 
worked upon them alternately as the mood seized him. When 
he had done for the day the canvas was always covered up 
and the easels placed behind a screen in the corner of the room 
and the doors opened to his friends. 

Once a week for two days, when the corps marched out to 
take its turn at outpost work, the work was laid by. Between 
the regular troops on either side there was but an occasional 
exchange of shots, except when one or the other side attempted 
to advance its position, but this was seldom, for every post of 
advantage and every village was now so strongly fortified as to 
defy capture except by a large force. 

The Germans had recognized already that Paris was not to 
be taken by force, at the cost except of a tremendous expendi- 
ture of life, therefore, they were content to close every avenue 
of escape and to leave it to famine to do the work for them. 
The French on their side felt that minor operations to enlarge 
their boundary somewhat, were but a vain effort, and reserved 
themselves for a great attempt to break through the line. The 
Franc-tireurs, however, were ever active. They kept up an 
increasing fusilade upon the Prussian outposts night and day, 
keeping them in a state of perpetual irritation and watchfulness. 

Except when on this service, Cuthbert saw but little of Arnold 


124 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Dampierre. The latter had entirely given up painting and was 
seldom at his lodgings ; nor when at home did he join in the 
smoking-parties at one or other of the student’s rooms. Other 
luxuries had given out, but tobacco was still fairly cheap and 
its solace made up for many privations. Nor was Arnold’s 
absence regretted. He had never been popular, and on the 
few occasions when he appeared among them, he was so moody 
and taciturn that his absence was felt as a relief. When on 
duty with the corps, however, he was always in good spirits. 
He seemed to delight in action and was ever ready to volunteer 
for any dangerous work, such as crawling up close to the Ger- 
man outposts to ascertain their precise positions. He had so 
many narrow escapes that his comrades declared that he held 
a charmed life against Prussian bullets. 

“ The American would be a pleasant fellow if we were always 
under arms,” Pierre Leroux said one evening ; “ he is not the 
same man directly we get outside the walls — he is cheerful, 
good-tempered, and full of ardor — here he is a bear. He will 
get into trouble if he does not mind. I was this afternoon 
opposite the Hotel de Ville. There were many of the un- 
washed denouncing the Government and its ways to all who 
would listen to them. Dampierre was standing in one of the 
groups where a man, whom I knew to be Minette’s father, for he 
came to the studio one day to say that she was unwell and 
could not come, was addressing them. He was pouring out 
threats against the bourgeois, against the Government, against 
every one in fact. He said that at present the true patriots, 
the working-men of Paris, were disarmed, but even had they 
arms, they would not imperil the defence of Paris by civil war ; 
but that as soon as the accursed Germans had turned their 
backs, their day would come, and the true principles of the 
Republic, the principles of ’79, would then be triumphant, and 
France would be free of the incubus of the selfish capitalists 
who ground down the people. I could see that Dampierre 
thoroughly sympathized with the fellow, and I believe that if 
there is trouble he is capable of putting on a red cap and 
marching with the scum of Belleville. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


125 


“ It is not Minette’s father, but Minette, who has converted 
him. I saw her marching at the head of one of the Belleville 
battalions the other day, dressed as a cantini^re, and carrying 
herself with the air of a young Amazon.” 

“ That girl is capable of anything,” Cuthbert said ; “ I have 
always said that she was a small sleeping volcano, and if there 
are barricades I can fancy her standing on the top of one of 
them and waving a red flag, however thickly the bullets might 
be whistling around. I went as far as I could in the way of 
warning Dampierre in the early days, but I soon saw that if we 
were to continue on terms of amity I must drop it. It is an 
infatuation and a most unfortunate one, but it must run its 
course. Dampierre is a gentleman, and although at present 
he may be carried away by the enthusiasm of these people, I 
fancy that if they should happen, which, God forbid, to get the 
upper hand, he would soon be shocked when they proceeded to 
carry their theories into execution. As to Minette, if he is ever 
mad enough to marry her, the best thing would be to do so as 
soon as Paris is open and to take her straight away to New 
Orleans. 

“ She is a born actress, and is as clever as she is pretty, and 
I have no doubt she would have the good sense to play the 
part of a grande dame admirably, and would soon become 
a leader of French society there ; but I should be sorry to pre- 
dict how long it would last and what would come after it, and 
I believe in my heart that the best thing that could happen for 
him would be to be knocked over by a Prussian bullet. But 
after all the thing may never come off. A girl like Minette 
must have lovers in her own class. I have no doubt she is 
fond of Dampierre at present, but no one can say how long it 
will last. I can imagine that she is proud of her conquest. 
He is good-looking, a gentleman, and rich. No doubt she is 
envied in her quarter, and besides it must be a gratification to 
her to have induced or fascinated him into casting in his lot 
with the reds, but all that will pall in time. If I were in his 
place I should never feel sure of her until I had placed the 
ring on her finger.” 


126 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ That is the time when I should begin not to feel sure of 
her,” Ren^ laughed, “ my anxieties would begin then. She is 
as changeable as an April sky. She could love passionately for 
a time, but for how long I should be sorry to guess. You see 
her in the studio, she is delighted with every fresh dress and 
fresh pose. Never was there so good a model for a few days, 
then she gets tired of it, and wants something fresh. She is 
like a child with a new doll ; for a bit she will be wild over it ; 
she cannot sleep without it, she takes it with her everywhere, 
she adores it, but will it soon be thrown by, and perhaps she will 
be battering its head with a stick. When Minette first came 
to the studio I was mad about her, now I would as soon have 
a tiger-cat for a mistress.” 

“That is too severe, Rene,” a young man who had joined the 
studio but three months before, expostulated. “ She seemed 
to me a charming young woman. I cannot understand what 
you and Cuthbert are talking of her in this way for.” 

Rene laughed. 

“ Ah, you haven’t got over the first stage yet, and many of 
the others will agree with you. We all like her, you know, we 
are all glad to have her with us ; she is like a glass of cham- 
pagne, and we cannot say anything against her in that quality. 
It is only when one comes to talk about her as a wife that one 
is frightened.” 

“ I believe all this is on account of her standing last month 
as Judith about to kill Holofernes.” 

“ Perhaps you are right, Clement. I admit that was a revela- 
tion to me. I used to laugh at Cuthbert, who declared she 
frightened him, but I felt then he was right. Good heavens, 
what a Judith she was ; it was enough to make one shiver to see 
the look of hate, of triumph and of vengeance in her face. One 
knew that one blow would do it ; that his head would be severed 
by that heavy knife she held as surely as a Maitre d’Armes 
would cut a dead sheep in two.” 

“ It was only a piece of acting. Rend. You might as well say 
that a tragedienne would be capable of carrying out a tragedy 
in her own family.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


127 


“ Perhaps so, Clement, but then you see it would never occur 
to me to marry a tragedienne. I should imagine that she would 
ask for the salt in the same tone that she would demand 
poison. I grant it was acting, but there was a terrific truth 
about it that showed that she was at least able to picture 
the position and feel it. I tried to sketch her, but I gave it up 
as hopeless. It was beyond me altogether. I observed that 
all the others failed, too, except Cuthbert here. He dashed it 
off in his note-book, and if he ever paints it, I would not have 
it hung up in my bedroom for a thousand francs, for I should 
never dare to go to sleep with it looking at me. But, indeed, 
of late, Minette has changed a good deal ; the little fool is 
carried away by all this talk up at Belleville, and takes it quite 
seriously. You remember she has refused our last three invita- 
tions, and she said quite superbly when I asked her the last 
time, ‘ This is no time for feasting and enjoyment, M. Rend> 
when Paris is besieged and thousands are starving.’ ” 

“ Then I don’t know where they are,” Pierre said. “Belle- 
ville was never so well off as it is to-day ; every man gets a 
franc and a half a day for wearing a kepi and going for a few 
hours once a week on duty on the wall. His wife gets some- 
thing, and they have so much for each child. They have no 
work to do, and I am told that, although six francs a day are 
offered by the Government for laborers, they cannot get enough 
men. The fellows enjoy smoking, lounging, talking, and do- 
ing nothing too much to be tempted by any offer. There may 
be starvation before we have done ; but at any rate there is 
none at present, for every man, woman, and child draws their 
ration of meat, not a large one, but enough to get on with ; be- 
side bread is not very dear, and there is no lack of vegetables, 
brought in every day from beyond the forts.” 

“ I said as much to Minette, Pierre, but she only muttered 
that working-men would not always exist on charity, and the 
time would come when there would be plenty for all. We shall 
have trouble with them before we have done I expect, what do 
you think, Henri ? ” 

The lieutenant took his pipe out of his mouth and nodded. 


128 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ There will be trouble,” he said. “ I have been up to Belle- 
ville several times. This spell of idleness is doing much harm. 
As soon as we have done with the Prussians we shall have the 
reds on our hands.” 

“We are seven to one against them,” Rend said, con- 
temptuously. “ The voting the other day showed that.” 

“ Ah, but the seventh know what they want. They want to 
be masters. They want money enough to keep them without 
work. They want to set the streets flowing with blood. The 
other six only want to be left alone. They have no idea of risk- 
ing their lives, and you will see, when it begins, they will hold 
the butts of their muskets up ; they will say, ‘ Don’t let us irri- 
tate these demons,’ and each man will hope that, even if others 
are robbed, he will somehow escape. 

“ You cannot rely on the National Guard, it is no use to count 
them in, and the mobiles only w'ant to be off to their villages. 
If the troops had a leader they might fight, but who is to lead 
them ? Trochu is an imbecile, the real fighting army is in the 
prisons of Germany, and when it is released will not care to 
embark in another war. I think things look bad.” 

“ What should we do ? ” Pierre asked. 

“ We should paint,” Henri said, “ that is to say we should 
paint if things go as I think they will, and the National Guard 
refuse to fight. If the men who have something to lose won’t 
lift an arm to defend it, why should we who have nothing at 
stake ? ” 

“ You might paint, but who is going to buy your pictures. 
Henri ? ” Cuthbert said, quietly. “ As soon as the reds get 
the upper hand we shall have the guillotine at work, and the 
first heads to fall will be those of your best customers. You don’t 
suppose the ruffians of Belleville are going to become patrons 
of art. For my part I w'ould rather fight against the savages 
than level my rifle against the honest German lads who are led 
here against us. I should think no more of shooting one of 
these roughs than of killing a tiger — indeed, I regard the tiger 
as the more honest beast of the two. Still, if you Frenchmen 
like to be ruled over by King Mob, it is no business of mine. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


129 


Thank God, such a thing is never likely to happen in England 
— at any rate in my time. In the first place, we can trust our 
troops, and in the second, we could trust ourselves. Were there 
not a soldier in the land, such a thing will never happen. Our 
workmen have sense enough to know that a mob-rule would be 
ruin to them as well as to the rich, and, were it needed, in twenty- 
four hours half a million men could be sworn in as constables^ 
and these would sweep the rabble into the Thames.” 

“ Your rabble would be unarmed; ours have at present all 
got muskets.” 

“ More fools they who gave them to them, but what can one 
expect from such a Government. There is not among them a 
single practical man except Gambetta, and he is away at Tours. 
It is a Government of lawyers and spouters ; of words they 
give us plenty, of goverment nothing. I would rather, infin- 
itely rather, that the women at the Halles should chose a dozen 
of the most capable women among them and establish them as 
the Government. I will guarantee you would see a change for the 
better before twenty-four hours were over. I doubt if you could 
see a change for the worse. Jules Fauvre with his ridiculous 
phrase, not one foot of our territory, not one stone of our for- 
tresses, is no better than a mountebank, and the others are as 
bad. Would that either Ducrot or Vinoy had the firmness and 
half the talent of a Napoleon. They would march the troops 
in, sweep away this gathering of imbeciles, establish martial 
law, disarm Belleville and Montmartre, shoot Floureus, Pyat, 
Blanqui, and a hundred of the most noxious of these vermin ; 
forbid all assemblages, turn the National Guards into soldiers, 
and after rendering Paris impotent for mischief turn their atten- 
tion to the Germans. The one thing that can save Paris to my 
mind is a military dictator, but I see no sign of such a man 
being forthcoming.” 

Bravo ! bravo ! ” several of the students shouted, “ what a 
pity it is that you are an Englishman, Cuthbert. You would be 
just the man for us otherwise.” 

“ At any rate, I should do something and not let everything 
drift,” Cuthbert retorted, joining in the laugh at his own un- 
9 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


130 

accustomed vehemence ; “ but there, we have broken our agree- 
ment, now let us revert to art ; ” but the effort was vain, the talk 
soon drifted back again to the siege, and many were the con- 
jectures as to what Trochu’s famous plan could be and which 
point offered the most hopeful chance for the army to pierce 
the German cordon. 

Mary Brander had a fortnight before enrolled herself among 
the nurses at the American ambulance, which was doing admir- 
able work, and was admitted by the French themselves to be a 
model which could be followed with great advantage in their 
own hospitals. Here everything was neat, clean, and w'ell 
arranged. The wounded were lodged in tents which were well 
ventilated and yet warm. The surgeons and some of the nurses 
were also under canvas, while others, among whom was Mary 
Brander, went back to their homes when their turn of duty was 
over. They had, like the ladies who worked in the French 
hospitals, adopted a sort of uniform and wore the white badge 
with the red cross on their arms. With this they could go un- 
questioned, and free from impertinent remarks through the 
thickest crowds, everyone making way for them with respectful 
civility. 

“ It is terrible,” she said to Cuthbert, upon his calling one 
evening when she was off duty, “ and yet I do not feel it so 
trying as listening to the silly talk and seeing the follies of the 
people in the streets. The poor fellows bear their sufferings 
so patiently, they are so grateful for every little thing done for 
them, that one cannot but feel how much there is likable among 
the French in spite of their follies. I talk to them a good deal 
and it is almost always about their homes and their families, 
especially their mothers. Sometimes it is their sweethearts or 
their sisters. With mobiles and linesmen it is just the same. 
Sometimes I write letters for them — such simple, touching 
letters as they are, it is difficult not to cry as they dictate, what 
are, in many cases, last farewells. They always want those at 
home to know that they have died doing their duty, but beyond 
that they don’t say much of themselves. It is of those to whom 
they are writing that they think. They tell them to cheer up. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


They bid younger brothers take their place. Besides the letters 
which will be photographed and sent off by pigeon post, I have 
a pile of little packets to be despatched when Paris is open — 
locks of hair, photographs, Bibles, and keepsakes of all kinds.” 

“ I think at any rate, Mary, you have at present discovered 
one branch at least of woman’s mission upon which we cannot 
quarrel. We grant not only your equality but your superiority 
to us as nurses.” 

Mary Brander smiled faintly, but ignored the opening for 
argument. 

“ Some of them are dreadfully wounded,” she went on, her 
thoughts reverting to the hospital. “ It is terrible to think that 
when the great battle everyone seems looking forward to takes 
place, there may be thousands of wounded to be cared for. When 
do you think it will be ? ” 

“ Soon ; of course no one can say when, but I don’t see any- 
thing to gain from waiting longer. The mobiles are as good as 
they are likely to be made. One can’t call the line disciplined, 
according to the English ideas of discipline, but they are better 
than they were, and at any rate all are anxious for something 
to be done.” 

“ Do you think they will get through ? ” 

He shook his head. 

“ If they could fall suddenly upon the Germans they might do 
so, but it is no easy matter to move large bodies of men quickly, 
and to be successful they ought to be able to hurl themselves 
against the Germans before they have time to concentrate. I 
have no doubt whichever side we issue out on, we shall get on 
fairly enough as long as we have the assistance of the guns of 
the forts ; but beyond that I don’t think we shall get. The 
Germans must by this time know the country vastly better than 
we do. They are immensely better trained in making extensive 
movements. They have excellent generals and good officers. 
I fancy it will be the same thing that it has been before. We 
shall make an advance, we shall push the enemy back fora bit, 
we shall occupy positions, and the next day the Germans will 
retake them. We have no method and no commissariat. Even 


132 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


now bodies of troops are outside the walls frequently four-and- 
twenty hours without food. In the confusion consequent on a 
battle matters will be ten times worse. In the morning the 
troops will be half-starved and half-frozen, and there will be 
very little fight left in them.” 

“ What would you do if you were commander-in-chief, Cuth- 
bert ? ” 

“ I am altogether unfit to make a plan, and still more unfit to 
carry it out,” he said, “ but my idea would certainly be to attack 
somewhere with half my force, to force the enemy back, and to 
hold positions at the end of the day, so that the Germans would 
concentrate to attack in the morning. At night I would with- 
draw the greater portion of them, march them straight across 
Paris ; the other half of the army would attack there at daybreak, 
and would be reinforced soon after the fighting began by those 
who had fought the day before. I think in that way they ought 
to be able to cut their way out, but what they would do when 
they once get out is more than I can tell you. They have no 
cavalry to speak of, while the Germans have a splendid cavalry 
force who would harass them continually. The infantry would 
pursue and would march infinitely better than we should do. 
We should scatter to get food, whole regiments would break up 
and become masses of fugitives, and finally we should be sur- 
rounded, either cut to pieces or forced to surrender. Of two 
things, I am not sure that it would not be best for us to be 
handsomely thrashed on the first day of our sortie.” 

“ You take a very gloomy view of things,” she said, almost 
angrily. 

“ Why, I should have thought you would be pleased. I am 
prophesying success for your friends, the Germans.” 

“ I don’t know why you should always insist that they are 
my friends. I was of opinion that they were right at first, and 
am so still, but I think they now are behaving hardly and cruelly ; 
at least I think Bismarck is. It was heartless for him to insist, 
as a condition of the armistice, that Paris should not be re- 
victualled while it lasted. Of course they could not agree to 
that, though they would have agreed to anything like fair 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


133 


conditions. Everyone really wanted peace, and if the Germans 
hadn’t insisted on those terms, peace would have been made. 
So things have changed altogether, and it is clear that not the 
Germans, but their leaders, want to injure and humiliate France 
to the utmost. They were not content with their pound of flesh, 
but they want to destroy France altogether. I despised these 
people at first, but I don’t despise them now. At least they are 
wonderfully patient, and though they know what they will have 
to suffer when everything is eaten up, no one has said a word 
in favor of surrender, since Bismarck showed how determined 
he was to humiliate them.” 

“ I think I shall win my bet after all, Mary.” 

“ I am not so sure as I was that you won’t. I didn’t think I 
could ever have eaten horse-flesh, but it is really not so bad. 
Monsieur Michaud told us, yesterday, that he dined out with 
some friends and had had both cat and rat. Of course they 
were disguised with sauces, but the people made no secret of 
what they were, and he said they were really very nice. I don’t 
think I could try them, but I don’t feel as certain as I did ; any- 
how, we haven’t begun to touch our stores, and there is no talk 
of confiscating everything yet.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

Two men were sitting in a cabaret near the Halles. One 
was dressed in the uniform of a sergeant of the National Guard. 
He was a powerfully-built man, with a black beard and a mus- 
tache, and a rough crop of hair that stuck out aggressively be- 
neath his kepi. The other was some fifteen years younger ; 
beyond the cap he wore no military uniform. He had a mus- 
tache only, and was a good-looking young fellow of the Ouvrier 
class. 

“ I tell you it is too bad, Phre Dufaure. A year ago she pre- 
tended she liked me, and the fact that she wore good dresses 
and was earning lots of money did not seem to make any dif- 
ference in her. But now all that is changed. That foreigner 


134 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


has turned her head. She thinks now she is going to be a lady 
and has thrown me over as if I were dirt, but I won’t have it,” 
and he struck his fist upon the table, “ those cursed aristocrats 
are not to have everything their own way.” 

“ Patience, Jean. Women will be women, and the right way 
to win her back is to have'patience and wait. I don’t say that 
just at present her head is not turned with this American, who 
by the way is a good Republican, and though he has money, 
has good notions, and holds with us that we have too long been 
ground down by the bourgeois, still she may tire of him after a 
while. He is not amusing, this American, and though Minette 
may like being adored, she likes being amused also. Pooh, 
pooh, this matter will come all right. Besides, although she 
likes the American at present, she thinks more of the Commune 
than of any lover. Have patience and do not quarrel with her. 
You know that I am on your side. But Minette is a good 
deal like what her mother was. Ah, these women ! A man 
can do nothing with them when they make up their minds 
to have their own way. What can I say to her ? I can 
not threaten to turn her out of the house for everything in 
it is hers. It is she who earns the money. She is too old 
to be beaten, and if it comes to scolding, her tongue runs 
faster than mine does, and you know besides she has a 
temper.” 

Jean nodded. 

“ She is worse than a wild-cat when her back is up,” he said. 
“ Why, when this thing first began, and I told her to beware 
how she went on with this American, for that I would kill him 
if he came in my way, she caught up a knife, and if I had not 
run like a rabbit, she would have stuck me, and you know how 
she went on, and drove me out of Montmartre. After that 
affair I have not dared see her.” 

“ Why not let her go ? and take to someone else, Jean ? 
There are plenty of pretty girls in the quarter who would not 
say no to the best rising worker in his trade.” 

“ It is no use, Pere Dufaure, I have told myself the same a 
hundred times, but I cannot do it. She has her tempers, what 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


135 

woman has not ; but at other times who is so bright and gay 
as she is ? ” 

“ Well, well, Jean, we shall see what we shall see. You 
don’t suppose that if things do not turn out well, as we hope 
they will do, I should let her carry out this whim of hers, and 
go off with the American, and leave me to shift for myself. 
Not such a fool. At present I say nothing. It is always better 
to hold your tongue as long as you can. I make him welcome 
when he comes to our house ; we go together to the meetings, 
and sometimes he speaks, and speaks well, though he does not go 
far enough for us. Well, no one can say what may happen — he 
may be shot by the Germans, or he may be shot at the barri- 
cades, who knows. At any rate it is best to hold my peace. 
If I leave things alone, Minette is as likely as not to change her 
mind again, but if I were to say anything against him — first, we 
should have a scene ; secondly, she would be more than ever 
determined on this whim. You must be patient, Jean, and all 
will come well in the end.” 

I am not so sure of that,” Jean said, sullenly. “ I was as 
patient as I could be, but no good came of it ; then, as you 
know, I tried to get rid of him, but failed, and had to move 
away, but one thing is certain, if I don’t marry her he never 
shall. However, I can wait.” 

“ That is all right, Jean ; wait till our little affairs come off 
and the bourgeois are under our feet. There will be good posts 
for true citizens then, and I will see that you have one, and it 
will be time to talk about marriages when everything is going 
on well. When we once get the Germans out of the way, we 
shall see what we shall see, Sapristie ! we will make short 
work of the capitalists, and as for the troops, they will have had 
enough fighting and will be ready enough to march off and 
leave us alone.” 

At the time they were talking, the couple they were speaking 
of were standing leaning on the parapet of the wall by the river. 
They met there every evening when there was no assembly of 
importance to attend. 

“ I wish it was all over, Minette,” he said, “ and that we could 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


136 

leave the city and be off. It would be a different life for you, 
dear, but I hope a pleasanter one. There would be no cold 
weather like this, but you can sit all the year round in the 
veranda without needing wraps. There will be servants to wait 
on )’ou, and carriages, and everything you can wish for, and 
when you are disposed there will be society ; and as all of our 
friends speak French, you will soon be quite at home with them. 
And, what one thinks of a good deal at present, there will be 
fruits and flowers, and plenty to eat, and no sound of cannon, 
and no talk of wars. We fought out our war ten years ago.” 

“ It sounds nice, Arnold, very nice, but it will be strange not 
to work.” 

“ You won’t want to work there,” he said ; “ in the day it is 
so hot that you will be glad to sit indoors in a darkened room 
and do nothing. I shall paint a good deal, and when you have 
the fancy, you can sit as my model again.” 

And is it a large city, Arnold ? It seems to me now that I 
could not live in the country, I should soon get dreadfully tired 
of it.” 

“ It is a large city,” he said, “ though, of course, not so large 
as Paris. There are theatres there and amusements of all 
sorts.” 

I should be content with you, Arnold. It does not seem 
to me that I could want anything else, but after all this excite- 
ment it will seem strange to have nothing to do.” 

“ I shall be glad to be out of it,” he said. “ Your father and 
the others are quite right — the rich have too much and the poor 
too little. The manufacturers gain fortunes, and the men whose 
work enriches them remain poor all their lives. Still I fear 
that they will go too far, and that troubles me.” 

She made a quick movement as if about to speak, but checked 
herself for a moment, and then said, quietly — 

“ You know the proverb, Arnold, ‘ One cannot make an 
omelette without breaking eggs.’ ” 

“ That is true,” he said, “ as to an omelette, but a change of 
Government can be carried out without costing life, that is un- 
less there is resistance, and I hope there will be none here. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


137 


The incapables over there will slink away. Why, Flourens and 
a few hundred men were enough to snatch the government out 
of their feeble hands. If the people declare that they will 
govern themselves, who is to withstand them. I hope to see 
the triumph and then to go. You know I am not a coward, 
Minette ; our corps have shown that they can fight, but I long 
for my quiet home again, with its gardens and flowers, and 
balmy air, and I like handling a paint-brush much better than a 
rifle, and above all to see you mistress of my home, but I know 
there is a good deal to go through first. Trochu’s plans may 
be carried out any day.” 

“ Ah ! Those Prussians ! ” she exclaimed, in a tone of the 
deepest hate, with a gesture of defiance towards Versailles. 
“ They will dare to fire at you ! ” 

“ Yes, I imagine they will do that, Minette,” he said with a 
laugh, “ and pretty hotly, too.” 

“ Well, if they kill you,” she said, passionately, “ I will avenge 
you. I will go out through the outposts and will find my way to 
Versailles, and I will kill William or Bismarck. They may kill 
me afterwards, I care nothing for that. Charlotte Corday was 
a reactionist, but she slew Marat and died calmly and bravely. 
I could do as much and would to revenge you.” 

“ I hope you would not attempt anything so mad, Minette. 
Of course, I must take my chance as everyone else will do, and 
the Prussians will be no more to blame if one of their bullets 
killed me than if it had struck anyone else. Everyone who 
goes into a battle has to run his chances. I had an elder 
brother killed in the civil war we had in the States. I have no 
great love for the North, but I do not blame them especially for 
the death of my brother. There were a great number killed on 
both sides, and that he should be among them was the fortune 
of war. But it is bitterly cold, Minette ; let us be walking. I 
am glad we are not on outpost duty to-night. I put on so 
many flannel shirts that I can hardly button my tunic over 
them, but in spite of that it is cold work standing with one’s 
hands on one’s trigger looking out into the darkness. It is 
quite a relief when a rifle rings out either from our side or the 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


138 

other. Then for a bit everyone is alive and active, we think 
the Prussians are advancing, and they think we are, and we 
both blaze away merrily for a bit. Then there is a lull again, 
and perhaps an hour or two of dreary waiting till there is a 
fresh alarm. As soon as we are relieved, we hurry off to our 
quarter, where there is sure to be a fire blazing. Then we heat 
up the coffee in our canteens, pouring in a little spirits, and are 
soon warm again.” 

“ I cannot see why they don’t form corps of women, Arnold ; 
we have just as much at stake as the men have, and I am sure 
we should be quite as brave as the most of them, a great deal 
braver than the National Guard.” 

“ I have no doubt you would, dear, but it will be quite time 
for you to fight when all the men are used up. What the women 
ought to do is to drive the men outside the walls. If the women 
were to arm themselves with mops soaked in dirty water, and 
were to attack every man under forty they found lurking in 
the streets, they would soon make a change in things. You 
should begin in your own quarter first, for although they are 
always denouncing the bourgeois for not fighting, I cannot 
see that there is any more eagerness to go out at Montmartre 
than there is in the quarter of the Bank — in fact, a great deal 
less.” 

“ Why should the ouvriers fight with the Germans, Arnold — 
to them it matters little whether Paris is taken by the Germans 
or not — it is not they whose houses will be sacked, it is not they 
who will have to pay the indemnity.” 

“ No, but at least they are Frenchmen. They can talk enough 
about the honor of France, but it is little they do to preserve it. 
They shout, ‘ the Prussians must be destroyed,’ and then go off 
quietly to their cabarets to smoke and drink. I do not admire 
the bourgeois, but I do not see anything more admirable among 
the ouvriers. They talk grandly but they do nothing. There 
is no difficulty in getting volunteers for the war companies among 
the National Guard of the centre, though to them the extra pay 
is nothing ; but at Belleville and Montmartre the war companies 
don’t fill up. They rail at the bourgeois but when it comes to 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


139 


fighting outside the walls I will wager that the shopkeepers show 
the most courage.” 

“They will fight when there is anything to fight for,” she said, 
confidently, “ but they don’t care to waste their time on the walls 
when there is nothing to do, and the Germans are miles away.” 

“ Well, we shall see,” he replied, grimly. “ Anyhow, I wish 
it were all over, and that we were on our way home. You have 
never seen a ship yet, Minette. You will be astonished when 
you go on board one of the great liners,” and as they walked 
along the Boulevards he told her of the floating palaces, in one 
of which they were to cross the ocean, and forgetting for a time 
the questions that absorbed her, she listened with the interest 
of a child hearing a fairy-tale. When they neared Montmartre 
they separated, for Minette would never walk with him in her 
own quarter. 

The next morning, November 28th, the order was issued that 
the gates were to be closed and that no one was to be allowed 
to pass out under any pretext whatever. No one doubted that 
the long-expected sally was to be carried out. Bodies of troops 
marched through the streets, trains of wagons with munitions 
of war moved in the same direction, and in an hour all Paris 
knew that the sortie was to take place somewhere across the 
loop formed by the Marne. 

“ It is for to-morrow,” Pierre Leroux exclaimed, running into 
Cuthbert’s room, “ we are to parade at daybreak. The gates are 
shut, and troops are moving about everywhere.” 

“All right, Pierre; we have been looking for it for so long, 
that it comes almost as a surprise at last.” 

Cuthbert got up, made himself a cup of coffee, drank it with 
a piece of dry bread, and then sallied out. Mary would be on 
duty at ten o’clock. He knew the road she took on her way to 
the hospital and should meet her. In half an hour he saw the 
trim figure in the dark dress, and the white band round the 
arm. 

“ I suppose you have heard that we are going to stir up the 
German nest to-morrow,” he said gayly. 

“Yes, I have heard,” she said, sadly, “ it is very dreadful.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


140 

^ “ It is what we have been waiting for and ionging for for the 
last two months. We are to be under arms at daybreak, and 
as you will be at the ambulance for the next twenty-four hours 
I thought I would make an effort to catch you on the way. I 
want you to come round to my lodgings.” 

She looked surprised. 

“ Of course I will come,” she said frankly, “ but what do you 
want me to do that for ? ” 

“ Well, there is no saying as to who will come back again to- 
morrow, Mary, and I want you to see my two pictures. I have 
been working at them for the last two months steadily. They 
are not quite finished yet, but another week would have been 
enough for the finishing touches, but I don’t suppose you will 
miss them. Nobody has seen them yet, and nobody w'ould 
have seen them till they were quite ready, but as it is possible 
they never may be finished I should like you to see them now. 
I am not taking you up under any false pretences,” he said, 
lightly, “ nor to try again to get you to change your mission. I 
only want you to see that I have been working honestly. I could 
see when I have spoken of my painting there was always a little 
incredulity in the way in which you listened to me. You had 
so completely made up your mind that I should never be earnest 
about anything that you could not bring yourself to believe that 
I wasn’t amusing myself with art here, just as I did in London. 
I had intended to have brought them triumphantly in a fiacre 
to your place, when they were finished, and I can’t deny myself 
the pleasure of disabusing your mind. It is not far out of your 
way, and if we walk fast you can still arrive at your ambulance 
in time. If there were any fiacres about I would call one, but 
they have quite disappeared. In the first place, because no one 
is rich enough to be able to pay for such luxuries, and in the 
second, because most of the horses have been turned to other 
uses.” 

She did not seem to pay very much attention to what he was 
saying, but broke in with the question — 

“ Do you think there will be much fighting ? ” 

“ It would be folly to try to persuade you that there won’t” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


141 

he said. “ When there are so many thousand men with guns 
and cannon who are determined to get out of a place, and an 
equal number of men with guns and cannon just as determined 
to keep them in, the chances are that, as the Irish say, there 
will be wigs on the green. I do not suppose the loss will 
be great in comparison to the number engaged, because cer- 
tainly a good many of the French will reconsider their deter- 
mination to get out, and will be seized with a burning desire to 
get back as soon as the German shells begin to fall among them, 
still I do hope that they will make a decent fight of it. I know 
there are some tremendously strong batteries on the ground 
enclosed by the loop of the Marne, which is where they say it 
is going to be, and the forts will be able to help, so that cer- 
tainly for a time we shall fight with great advantages. I do 
wish that it was not so cold, fighting is bad enough in summer ; 
but the possibility of lying out all night on the snow wounded 
is one I very strongly object to.” 

He continued to talk in the same light strain, until they 
reached his lodgings, in order to put the girl at her ease. 

“ So this is your sitting-room,” she said, with a laugh that had 
a tremor in it, “it is just what I supposed it would be, very un- 
tidy, very dusty, and yet in its way, comfortable. Where are 
the pictures ? ” 

“ Behind that screen ; I keep them in strict seclusion there. 
Now if you will sit down by the window I will bring the easels 
out.” 

She did as he told her. The pictures were covered when he 
brought them out. He placed them where the light would fall 
best on them, and then removed the cloths. 

“ They have not arrived at the glories of frames yet,” he said, 
“but you must make allowances for that. lean assure you 
they will look much larger and more important when they are 
in their settings.” 

The girl sat for a minute without speaking. They were re- 
pruductions on a larger scale and with all the improvements 
that his added skill and experience could introduce of the two 
he had exhibited to M. Goudd, when he entered the studio. 


142 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ I had intended to do battle-pieces,” he said, “ and have 
made innumerable sketches, but somehow or other the inspira- 
tion did not come in that direction, so I fell back on these which 
are taken from smaller ones I painted before I left London. 
Do you like them } You see I hang upon your verdict. You 
at present represent the public to me.” 

There were tears standing in the girl’s eyes. 

“ They are beautiful,” she said, softly, “ very beautiful. I am 
not a judge of painting, though I have been a good deal in the 
galleries of Dresden, and I was at Munich too; and I know 
enough to see they are painted by a real artist. I like the bright 
one best, the other almost frightens me, it is so sad and hope- 
less, I think — ” and she hesitated, “ that girl in the veranda 
is something like me, though I am sure I never look a bit like 
that, and I am nothing — nothing like so pretty.” 

“ You never look like that. Miss Brander, because you have 
never felt as that girl is supposed to be feeling ; some day when 
the time comes that you feel as she does you will look so. That 
is a woman, a woman who loves. At present that side of your 
nature has not woke up. The intellectual side of you, if I may 
so speak, has been forced, and your soul is still asleep. Some 
day you will admit that the portrait, for I own it to be a por- 
trait, is a life-like one. Now — ” he broke off abruptly, “ we 
had better be going or you will be late at your post.” 

She said no more until they were in the street. 

“ I have been very wrong,” she said suddenly, after walking 
for some time in silence. “ You must have worked hard in- 
deed. I own I never thought that you would. I used to con- 
sider your sketches very pretty, but I never thought that you 
would come to be a great artist.” 

“ I have not come to that yet,” he said, “ but I do hope that 
I may come to be a fair one some day — that is if the Germans 
don’t forcibly interfere — but I have worked very hard, and I 
may tell you that Goude, who is one of the best judges in Paris, 
thinks well of me. I will ask you to take care of this,” he said, 
and he took out a blank envelope. “This is my will. A man 
is a fool who goes into a battle without making provision for 


-4 GIRL OF THE COMMVNE. 


U3 

what may happen. When I return you can hand it to me again. 
If I should not come back please inclose it to your father. He 
will see that its provisions are carried out. I may say that I 
have left you the two pictures. You have a right to them, for 
if it had not been for you I don’t suppose they would ever 
have been painted. I only wish that they had been quite 
finished.” 

Mary took the paper without a word, nor did she speak again 
until they arrived at the ambulance, then she turned and laid 
her hand in his. 

“ Good-bye, Mary, I hope I shall ask you for that envelope 
back again in a couple of days.” 

“ God grant that it maybe so,” she said, “ I shall suffer so till 
you do.” 

“ Yes, we have always been good friends, haven’t we ? Now, 
child, you always used to give me a kiss before I left you then. 
Mayn’t I have one now ” 

She held up her face, he kissed her twice, and then turned 
and strode away. 

“ I wonder whether she will ever grow to be a woman,” he 
said to himself, bitterly, “ and discover that there is a heart as 
well as brains in her composition. There was no more of doubt 
or hesitation in the way in which she held up her face to be 
kissed, than when she did so as a child. Indeed, as a child, I 
do think she would have cried if I told her at parting that I was 
going away for good. Well, it is of no use blaming her. She 
can’t help it if she is deficient in the one quality that is of all 
the most important. Of course she has got it and will know it 
some day, but at present it is latent and it is evident that I am 
not the man who has the key of it. She was pleased at my 
pictures. It was one of her ideas that I ought to do something, 
and she is pleased to find that I have buckled to work in ear- 
nest, just as she would be pleased if Parliament would pass a 
law giving to women some of the rights which she has taken it 
into her head they are deprived of. However, perhaps it is 
better as it is. If anything happens to me to-morrow, she will 
be sorry for a week or two just as she would if she lost any other 


144 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


friend, while if Arnold Dampierre goes down Minette will for a 
time be like a mad woman. At any rate my five thousand will 
help her to carry out her crusade. I should imagine that she 
won’t get much aid in that direction from her father. 

“ Halloa, I know that man’s face,” he broke off as he noticed 
a well-dressed man turn in at the door of a quiet-looking resi- 
dence he was just approaching, “ I know his face well ; he is 
an Englishman, too, but I can’t think where I have seen him.” 
He could not have told himself why he should have given the 
question a second thought, but the face kept haunting him in 
spite of the gravef matters in his mind, and as he reached the 
door of his lodgings he stopped suddenly, 

“ I have it,” he exclaimed, “ it is Gumming, the manager of 
the bank, the fellow that ruined it and then absconded. I saw 
they were looking for him in Spain and South America and 
a dozen other places, and here he is. By Jove, he is a clever 
fellow. I suppose he came here as soon as the war broke out, 
knowing very well that the police would have plenty of other 
things to think of besides inquiring as to the antecedents of 
Englishmen who took up their residence here. Of course he 
has been absolutely safe since the fall of the Empire. The fel- 
low has grown a beard and mustache ; that is why I did not 
recognize him at first. Of course he has taken another name. 
Well, I don’t know that it is any business of mine. He got off 
with some money, but I don’t suppose it was any great sum. 
At any rate it would not be enough to make any material dif- 
ference to the creditors of the bank. However, I will think it 
over later on. There is no hurry about the matter. He is here 
till the siege is over, and I should certainly like to have a talk 
with him. I have never been able to get it quite out of my mind 
that there has been something mysterious about the whole affair 
as far as my father was concerned, though where the mystery 
comes in is more than I can imagine. I expect it is simply 
because I have never liked Brander, and have always had a 
strong idea that our popular townsman was at bottom a knave 
as well as a humbug.” 

Mary Brander went about her work very quietly all day, and 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


US 

more than one of the wounded patients remarked the change 
in her manner. 

“ Mademoiselle is suffering to*day,” one of them said to her, 
as he missed the ring of hopefulness and cheeriness with which 
she generally spoke to him. 

“ I am not feeling well, I have a bad headache ; and more- 
over I have friends in the sortie that is to be made to-night.” 

“ Ah, yes, mademoiselle, there must be many sad hearts in 
Paris. As for me, my spirits have risen since I heard it. At 
last we are going to begin in earnest and it is time. I only 
wish I could have been well enough to have taken my share in 
it. It is tiresome to think that I have been wounded in a 
trifling skirmish. I should not have minded if it had been to- 
morrow, so that, when I am an old man, I might tell my grand- 
children that I got that scar on the day when we drove the 
Prussians from the front of Paris. That would have been 
something to say. Courage, mademoiselle, after all there are 
twenty who get through these things safely, to every one that 
is hit, and your friends will be covered with glory.” 

“ I hope that it will be as you think,” she said, “ but it may 
be the other way, and that the sortie will fail.” 

“You must not think that,” he said. “We have not had a 
fair chance before, now we have got one. But even should we 
not win the first time, we will the second or the third. What, 
are Frenchmen always to be beaten by these Prussians ? They 
have beaten us of late, because we have been badly led ; but 
there must come another Jena to us one of these days.” 

Mary nodded and then passed on to the next patient. In 
the evening the news came that things were not all in readiness, 
and that the sortie was deferred at least for twenty-four hours. 

“You are not well. Miss Brander,” the chief surgeon of the 
hospital said to her soon afterwards, “ I have noticed all day 
that you have been looking fagged and worn out. As it is 
certain now that we shall have no unusual pressure upon our 
resources for another thirty-six hours at any rate, I think you 
had better go home.” 

“ I have a bad headache,” she said. 

10 


146 A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 

“Yes, I can see that, and your hand is as cold as ice. Go 
home, child, and have a long night’s rest. This sort of work 
is very trying until one gets hardened to it. Fortunately I 
have no lack of assistance. If you do not feel better to-morrow 
morning take another twenty-four hours off duty. You are likely 
to want all your strength and nerve on Monday if this affair 
comes off in earnest, which I own I am inclined to doubt, for, so 
far, there has been no shadow of earnestness about anything 
since the siege began.” 


CHAPTER XII.' 

The Franc-tireurs des ficoles had marched out beyond the 
walls when the order came that the affair was postponed, and 
that they would not be required till the following day, when 
they were to parade at daybreak. There was much indignation 
at the change and all sorts of causes were suggested for it. 
One rumor was to the effect that the pontoon bridges for 
crossing the river were of insufficient length. Others said that 
the train of provisions that was to accompany the force after 
it had cut its way through the Prussians was not ready. One 
rumor was to the effect that the Prussians had been apprised 
by spies of Trochu’s intentions and had massed heavy bodies 
of men at the threatened point. The most generally received 
opinion was that Trochu’s object had been only to make a 
demonstration on this side of Paris, with the object of deceiving 
the Prussians and inducing them to weaken their lines at other 
points, and that the real attack would be made in another 
direction altogether. 

“ It is a nuisance whichever way it is,” Cuthbert said, as, 
after the corps was dismissed, he walked back with a group of 
his friends, “ it is a mistake too. We had all got ourselves up 
to boiling heat, and had made up our minds to go through with 
it, and this delay is like a dash of cold water. Of course it is 
the same with the rest of the force. One hates being hum- 
bugged, and it makes one doubt whether our generals know 
their business. Well, there is one thing, the delay won’t be a 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


147 


long one ; it is eight o’clock now, and as we must be up by six, 
I shall turn in at once and get a good sleep. Be sure and don’t 
forget your flasks in the morning. The weather gets colder 
and colder.” 

The next morning, however, the men were again dismissed 
after parade, and told they were to fall in again at daybreak 
next day. There was a feeling of restlessness and disquiet 
throughout Paris. The town was placarded with proclamations 
of Trochu and Ducrot. The latter was a sort of valedictory 
letter to Paris, saying that he was going out to conquer or to 
die, and that if defeated, he would never return to Paris alive. 
It was evident by their tone that at the time the proclamations 
were penned it was intended that the battle should take place on 
that day, and that the delay was consequent upon a breakdown 
in the arrangements and was not the result of any fixed plan. 

Paris for once was serious. Special services were held in all 
the churches and these were thronged by citizens and soldiers. 
Cuthbert went to the building where a few of the English res- 
idents attended service throughout the siege. Mary Brander 
was not present, but as she had said the day before that she 
would be on duty for twenty-four hours, he had not expected to 
see her. 

In the afternoon he went to a restaurant and dined fairly 
well, indulging himself in all the luxuries obtainable, and then 
returned and spent the evening with Rene and Pierre. The 
next morning, when he dressed himself for parade, he took the 
precaution of putting on as many articles of underclothing as 
he could button his tunic over. This time there was no mis- 
take in the orders, as not a few of those who fell in had hoped 
in their hearts might be the case. As soon as the corps was 
formed up and their arms and ammunition-pouches examined, 
the word was given and they marched away towards the gate 
of Charenton and issued out. Many bodies of troops were 
converging upon it and the other gates on that side of the city, 
with trains of ammunition and supply wagons, and there was a 
delay of an hour before they could pass out. The greater part 
of the force had left the city on the two previous days, and a 


148 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


hundred thousand men under Ducrot were massed in the Bois 
de Vincennes and between that point and the neck of the loop 
formed by the Marne. 

The Franc-tireurs were halted near Charenton, and learning 
that the attack would not take place till night, the colonel took 
possession of an empty barn near the village. The men piled 
their arms outside and made themselves as comfortable as they 
could. Now that there was no longer any doubt that an en- 
gagement would take place in a few hours the natural light- 
heartedness of the students revived. All had brought with 
them a good store of provisions in their haversacks, and each 
man carried a thick blanket besides his military cloak. Many 
of them had, in addition to their flasks, slipped a bottle of wine 
into their haversacks, and a meal was joyously partaken of, 
after which pipes were lighted, and with their blankets wrapt 
round their legs, all were inclined to agree that campaigning 
even in winter had its pleasures. 

“ We are a deal better off than most of the troops,” Cuthbert 
said to Arnold Dampierre, “it must be bitter in the snow out 
in the woods, and it will be worse when it gets dark.” 

“ It is better for all than it was for our fellows in the South,” 
Dampierre said. “ We have warm clothes and plenty to eat. 
They were in rags and often well-nigh starving.” 

“ Yes, that must have been a very rough business. It is a 
great advantage that we are Franc-tireurs and therefore free, 
to a great extent, to follow our own devices. I heard the 
colonel say that when he had applied for orders he was 
told that none would be given to detached corps like his, 
but that now, as at other times, they must make themselves 
useful when they saw an opportunity. The line are to cross 
first, then the mobile, and then the active battalions of the 
National Guards. If I judge the colonel rightly he will man- 
age to put us somewhere in front. We stand well after that 
affair at Bourget, so I have no doubt he will get us across one 
of the bridges as soon as the line are over.” 

Soon after four o’clock it began to get dusk. 

The colonel, who had been away endeavoring to find out 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


149 

what was the general plan of operations, returned soon after. 
The officers gathered round him. 

“ Pontoon bridges will be thrown across the river on both 
sides of the loop. The pontonners will set to work on them 
when it is dark. I fancy the real attack will be through Cham- 
pigny, and that on the other side will be more ot the nature of 
a false alarm ; so we will go with the main force. There are 
some strong batteries erected in the loop which will prepare the 
way for us and a big train of field-guns. The troops will begin 
to cross at early daylight, so we can’t do better than remain 
where we are until five o’clock. Then we will go and take 
our place near one of the bridges and slip across as soon as we see 
an opportunity. With such a mass of troops to move, there are 
sure to be delays in bringing the regiments up, and the first 
that occurs, we will slip in and get over. The men may as well 
lie down at once and get a good night.” 

It needed somewhat close packing for the men to rest them- 
selves, but the crowding was more than counter balanced by 
the warmth, and it was not long before all were asleep. At one 
o’clock in the morning, they were awakened by a tremendous 
cannonade. All the forts round Paris had suddenly opened fire 
upon the German positions. Believing that the enemy must 
have obtained a knowledge of the approaching sortie and were 
anticipating it by assaulting the forts, the colonel ordered the 
men to stand to their arms. In an hour the firing ceased and 
all was quiet again. The men, with a little grumbling at being 
taken out and chilled in the night air, returned to the barn. At 
four o’clock they were again aroused by the fire being resumed. 

“ We may as well be off, lads,” the colonel said, “ we have 
some distance to march, and it is not worth while to turn in 
again.” 

Between the reports of the guns a dull rumbling sound could 
be heard. 

“ The artillery and train are on the move,” Cuthbert said to 
Rend, who was next to him in the ranks, “ so we shall not be 
too soon if we are to take our share in the early part of the 
fighting.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


^50 

They left the main road and followed the fields, as many of 
them were well acquainted with the country, and they had no 
difficulty in keeping in the right direction. The men marched 
at ease, each picking his way as best he could across the ground, 
which was broken up into small enclosures and gardens. They 
halted outside a village on the banks of the Marne where one 
of the pontoon bridges had been thrown across. Here they 
piled arms and endeavored to keep themselves warm by stamp- 
ing their feet and swinging their arms. 

Soon after morning dawned, heavy firing broke out suddenly 
behind them. The colonel had learnt at Charenton that 
General Vinoy, with 15,000 men, was to advance from between 
the southern forts to attack Ville Juif and the heights of 
Mesly, so as to induce a concentration of the enemy in that 
direction, and so to diminish the difficulties of the main 
advance. 

For a time there was a sound of cannon only, then came a 
crackle of musketry telling that the advance had begun. The 
battery on the commanding position of St. Maur opened in 
earnest, and was aided by several batteries of field artillery, 
the din being now incessant. Gradually the rattle of musketry 
became fainter, showing that the French were driving the enemy 
back, and a mounted officer riding past told them that Montmesly 
was taken. The news raised the spirits of the soldiers to the 
highest point, and their impatience was becoming almost uncon- 
trollable, when the order arrived for them to advance, and the 
troops at once began to cross the six pontoon bridges that had 
been thrown at different points across the Marne. 

“ There is no hurry, mes braves,” the colonel said, as the 
Franc-tireurs stamped with impatience as they saw the columns 
crossing the river, while they remained in enforced inactivity. 
“ At first the troops will carry all before them as Vinoy’s men 
have done. The fighting will only commence in earnest \vhen 
the Prussians bring up their supports. We shall be in time for 
that, never fear. We ought to have begun at daybreak,” he 
growled, in a low voice, to the major, “four precious hours 
have been wasted. By this time we ought to have gained at 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


least three or four miles of ground ; in that case we might have 
been through the Prussian lines before sunset. Every hour in 
these short days is of importance.” 

Presently the roll of musketry showed that the French 
skirmishers were engaged with the German outposts. The 
Franc-tireurs had by this time moved down close to the bridge ; 
but it was not until midday that they were able to cross ; then 
the colonel, taking advantage of a short delay on the part of 
one of the regiments to come up to the bridge, pushed the men 
across, and leaving the road took them forward at the double. 

By this time the roar of battle was unbroken. The batteries 
along the heights behind them, the forts, and the field-guns in 
advance were all hard at work, the shell flying over the heads 
of the advancing troops and bursting in the villages held by 
the Germans. In front, the rattle of musketry was deafening. 
Champigny, they learned from a wounded soldier who was 
making his way to the rear, had been carried, and the troops 
there had pushed some distance forward, but on the left Villiers- 
la-Desert was found to be too strongly fortified to be taken. 
The French batteries were, however, raining shell upon it. 

As the Franc-tireurs approached Champigny they saw that 
the place had not been taken without a severe struggle. The 
bodies of French soldiers strewed the ground thickly, and as 
they passed through the streets, the Saxon uniforms were mingled 
with those of their assailants. The corps pushed forward until 
they ascended the low hills behind the village. Here they 
found the French troops halted. It was evident Ducrot did 
not intend to advance further until joined by the whole of his 
command. 

“ This is pure madness,” the colonel said ; “ by to-morrow 
we shall have fifty thousand Germans in front of us. If Ducrot 
hasn’t got his whole force, and his train and ambulances up, he 
might at least carry Villiers by assault. Of course it could not 
be done without loss, but what have we come out for but to 
fight. We cannot advance as long as they hold that place, for • 
when their supports come up, as you may be sure they will do 
ere long, they can pour out from there and take us in the rear, 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


152 

However, we may as well go forward to the skirmishing line. We 
will work down by the right. If the German supports come up 
they are likely to advance that way, and as I hear no firing in 
that quarter, we may find some spot unoccupied by the line.” 

The order was given, and the corps marched off, and presently 
took up their position between the river and the French regi- 
ment forming the extreme right flank of the advance. In ex- 
tended order and taking advantage of every inequality of the 
ground, they pushed on, and after advancing a quarter of a 
mile, were brought to a standstill by a sudden outbreak of 
musketry fire at various points along the crest of a slight rise 
some six hundred yards in front of them. Taking cover be- 
hind a low wall running at right angles to the river, they opened 
a dropping fire in return. This, however, was at once stopped 
by the colonel, who himself went along the line. 

“ Don’t throw away a shot, lads,” he said, “ you may want 
every cartridge before you have done. It will be time enough 
to begin when they show in force over that crest.” 

There was no more for the men to do than there had been 
when they were waiting for their turn to cross the bridge, but 
they were satisfied, now they were in the front line, and within 
shot of the enemy. The march had set their blood in circula- 
tion, and while two or three of each company kept a keen look- 
out over the top of the wall, the others laughed and joked, 
after first employing themselves in knocking holes through the 
wall, a few inches above the ground, so that they could lie and 
fire through if the enemy advanced. The musketry fire had 
almost ceased away to their right, and they hoped that Vinoy 
had established himself well out in that direction. Various 
were the conjectures as to why the advance had ceased on 
their own side. Some conjectured that Trochu’s plan consisted 
only in crossing the river and then marching back again in order 
to accustom the troops to stand fire. One suggested that the 
general had come out without ink or paper with which to write 
his grandiose proclamations to the Parisians, and they were 
waiting until it had been fetched from his office. 

“ What do you think, Henri ? ” Rene asked the lieutenant. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


153 


** I should say,” he said, gravely, “ that when our advance 
came upon the real Prussian line of defence, they found it too 
strong to be carried. They must have known that they could 
never hold Champigny under the fire of our guns and forts, and 
used it only as an outpost. Of course it is from this side they 
would think it likely that we should try to break out, and they 
would certainly erect batteries to command all the roads. They 
have had nothing else to do for the last ten weeks.” 

“ I have no doubt that is partly the reason, Henri,” Cuth- 
bert said, “ but I think it may be principally due to the fact that 
Ducrot can’t get his troops across the river. Even with a well- 
organized army and a good staff, and commanding officers who 
all know their duty, it is a big job to get a hundred thousand 
men, with artillery, ambulances, and trains across a river. 
Here, with the exception of Ducrot himself and a few of the line 
officers, nobody knows anything about the matter. By what 
we saw, I should think there are not more than twenty thousand 
men across the river, and the confusion on the other side must 
be frightful. We ourselves saw that the street of that village 
was absolutely choked up with wagons, and I have no doubt all 
the roads are the same. Of course they never ought to have 
moved forward at all till all the troops were over. If Trochu 
really meant to break out, the north is the side where he should 
have tried. The whole force could have been massed between 
the walls and St. Denis and have been marched in regular order 
against the Prussians, with the field-batteries at intervals and 
the trains following at a proper distance on the various lines of 
roads. 

“ I hope that is his plan still, and that this attack from the 
South is only a feint to draw as many of the Germans as pos- 
sible over to this side. We have a tremendous advantage in 
having this short line to march across. If Trochu were to send 
the train off at once, while we recrossed and followed as soon 
as it was dark, the whole army might be outside the northern 
wall before morning. To-morrow we might get into position for 
attack, make all the arrangements, and advance far enough to 
dash forward at their lines as soon as it is light next day, and 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


IS4 

with Ducrot’s and Vinoy’s force united, we ought to go right 
through them. We should have 115,000 men, and I don’t sup- 
pose they could oppose us with a third of that number. How- 
ever strong their positions, we ought to be able to carry them if 
we went at them with a rush. Besides, we should have the guns 
at the northern forts to help us. At any rate, after this delay 
here, I consider the idea of any further advance in this direction 
to be out of the question. By to-morrow morning they may 
have a hundred thousand men facing us, and if we don’t recross 
to-night, we may find it very difficult business to do so to- 
morrow.” 

“ We have got the batteries and forts to cover us,” Henri 
Vaucour said. “ The Germans could never advance against 
us in force under their fire.” 

“ I hope we are going to cross this evening, if we are going 
to cross at all,” Pierre Leroux said. “ It is cold enough 
now, but if we are going to pass the night here, it will be 
bitter.” 

“ There are those houses by the river, we are a good deal 
nearer to them than any other troops,” Arnold Dampierre said ; 
“ they will hold us if we pack in pretty closely.” 

As the afternoon wore on, the colonel sent two officers to in- 
spect the houses, which were all found to be empty. As soon 
as he received the report, he sent twenty men off with orders to 
cut down hedges and form fagots, and then to light fires in 
each room. There was no further movement. A heavy mus- 
ketry fire w^as kept up far away to the left, and the batteries oc- 
casionally fired heavily ; but all idea of movement was evidently 
abandoned for the day, and the enemy were not in sufficient 
force to take the offensive. 

As soon as it became dark, therefore, half a company were 
left on guard at the wall, and the rest of the corps marched off 
to the houses. Roaring fires were blazing in every room, for 
some fruit trees had been cut down and split up into logs. The 
party on guard were to be relieved every two hours. As soon 
as the men were bestowed in their quarters, the major went 
off to discover, if possible, what had been the result of the 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


ISS 

fighting on the other side of the loop. It was two hours before 
he returned, and the news he brought was dispiriting. 

“ I have been up to Creteil,” he said, “ and have learnt from 
the people there who saw the whole affair what has happened. 
The advance was good. We swept the Germans at first before 
us, and for a time our fellows made a stand on the crest of 
Montmesly. But the enemy were reinforced and drove us down 
the hill again. Then came a disgraceful panic. The soldiers 
who had fought fairly at first, became a mob ; the mobile, who 
had not done as well as had been expected, were worse. There 
was a battalion of the National Guard of Belleville, and the scoun- 
drels ran without firing a shot. At Creteil the men absolutely 
fought to get through the street. It was disgraceful. I hear 
that further to the right the line did bett^, and that we still 
hold Ville Juif and other villages well in advance of our old 
position. That is all I could learn. They say our losses have 
been pretty heavy ; at any rate Creteil is full of wounded, and 
the ambulances are taking them into Paris. There is great 
confusion on the other side of the river. The roads are all 
choked with the wagon-trains. Nobody has got any orders, 
nobody knows what is going to be done, no one knows where 
Ducrot or Trochu are. It is enough to make one tear one’s 
hair to see such confusion and mismanagement.” 

The night passed off quietly. The next day, to the surprise 
of everyone, things remained unchanged. No effort was made 
to pass the baggage-train over the bridges. A portion of the 
troops had been put under canvas the first evening, and save 
for the dead still lying about, the broken arms, the stains of 
blood, and the parties engaged in carrying the wounded across 
the river to the ambulance wagons, and others burying the 
dead, the scene differed little from an ordinary encampment. 
The troops laughed and jested round the camp-fires, and oc- 
cupied themselves with their cooking ; the horses that had been 
killed were already but skeletons, the flesh having been cut off 
for food. The advance parties had been called in, and a bar- 
ricade thrown up just beyond Champigny, where the advance 
guard occasionally exchanged shots with the Prussians a few 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


156 

hundred yards away. Strong parties were at work erecting a 
series of earthworks on the hill. 

The Franc-tireurs fell back from the position they had held 
the night before, and established themselves in a few houses, 
half roofless and shattered by shell, between Champigny and 
the river. Most of the houses in the long straggling street of 
Champigny bore marks of the conflict that had raged there 
before the Saxons had been driven out. Fortunately large 
stores of straw were found in the village, and these added much 
to the comfort of the troops, and the Franc-tireurs carried off 
a good many trusses to their quarters. Considerable amounts 
of other stores were also discovered there, and were thoroughly 
appreciated by the soldiers after their restricted rations. 

They smoked their pipes that evening feeling thankful that 
as they lay behind Champigny there was no occasion for them 
to turn out on outpost duty. 

“They say we shall fight again to-morrow for certain,” Rene 
said. 

“ I think it likely w^e shall, Rene, but I should be inclined to 
bet ten to one, that it is the Prussians who will attack. They 
will have had forty-eight hours to mass their forces here, and 
will be fools if they don’t take advantage of the opportunity we 
have been good enough to give them.” 

Day was just breaking when a sharp rattle of musketry broke 
out. The Franc-tireurs sprang to their feet. 

“I should have won my bet, Rene, if you had taken it,” 
Cuthbert exclaimed, as he slung his cartridge-box over his 
shoulder. “ They are on us all along the line.” 

In less than a minute the rattle of musketry swelled into a 
continuous roar, above which came the boom of cannon and 
the explosion of shells in and around Champigny. Just as the 
corps was formed up, the heavy guns in the battery of St. Maur 
behind them opened fire, their deep roar sounding loud above 
the sharp explosion of the Prussian field-guns. As they ad- 
vanced at the double towards the village, they could see a mob 
of panic-stricken men rushing from the front. 

“The cowards, the vile cowards ! ” broke from the lips of the 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


157 


men, and as some of the fugitives ran past them, they saluted 
them with yells and cries of contempt. Fully five thousand 
panic-stricken men were in wild flight, all rushing towards the 
bridge. 

“ If I were the commander of St. Maur,” Ren^ said, “ I 
would turn my guns upon these cowards. They are greater 
enemies to France than are the Prussians.” 

“ Forward, my children,” shouted the old colonel, “ let us 
show them that there are still some Frenchmen ready to fight 
and die for their country.” 

The officer in command of St. Maur, and the general on the 
spot, were equal to the situation. Seventy or eighty field-pieces 
were massed round the redoubt, and a tremendous fire opened 
upon the Prussian batteries out on the plain, while a strong 
guard was sent down to the end of the bridge to bar the way to 
the mob of fugitives. The Germans had already obtained pos- 
session of the other end of the village when the Franc-tireurs 
entered it, but a small body of troops were standing firm. Some 
barricades thrown up across the street were manned, and from 
these and from every house they replied to the fire of the 
advancing Prussians. But the latter were still pushing on, 
wresting house by house from their hands, while a hail of shell 
from the German batteries fell upon the part of the village still 
held by the French. As the Franc-tireurs advanced the 
colonel ordered one company to wheel off on either hand to 
occupy the gardens behind the houses, and so prevent the 
enemy from taking the defenders in the rear. He himself 
pressed forward down the street to aid the soldiers at the 
barricades. 

The sun had by this time risen, and its light, glinting on the 
Prussian helmets, showed strong bodies advancing down the 
slopes into the village. The woods on either hand were still 
held by the French, but the irregular fire showed that they were 
not in strong force. The din was terrific, three or four of the 
French mitrailleuses were adding to the roar, and sending 
streams of bullets into the advancing Germans. Nerved by 
the desperation of the situation, and fiercely angered at the 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


158 

cowardice of their countrymen, the young artists of Cuthbert’s 
company dashed forward, climbing walls, bursting through 
hedges, burning with eagerness to meet the foe. 

The Prussian shells were bursting all round, bullets sang above 
and around them, the rattle of musketry grew louder and 
fiercer, but there was not a moment’s check until Francois des 
Valles shouted to them to halt behind a low wall. The enemy 
were but a huudred yards away, pressing forward through the 
gardens. 

“ Steady men, steady,” he shouted. “ Lie down for a minute 
to get breath, then let every other man open fire, but don’t 
throw away a shot. Let the others try and get some stones out 
of the wall and make loop-holes.” 

As yet they had not been seen by the Germans, and these 
were but fifty yards away in a thick line of skirmishers, when 
Des Valles gave the word, and the Franc-tireurs, rising on one 
knee and resting their muskets on the wall, opened a steady fire 
upon them. Many fell, and taken by surprise the rest ran back 
to a wall some thirty yards in rear and thence opened a heavy 
fire. 

“ Lie down, lads,” Des Valles shouted, and all set to work 
to loop-hole the wall. “ Don’t show your heads above it, unless 
they advance again. All we have got to do is to hold our 
ground.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

By the aid of their sword-bayonets the Franc-tireurs soon 
pierced the wall, and lying at full length a yard apart, replied to 
the enemy’s fire. Through the smoke they could just make out 
the upper line of the wall, and as the Prussians stood up to fire 
picked them off. Henri Vaucour crept along the line urging 
the men to fire slowly. 

“They will advance presently,” he said. “You can tell by 
the fire that they are getting thicker and thicker. We must 
check their rush.” 

Five minutes later there was a deep cheer and a crowd of 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


159 

dark figures leaped over the wall. A flash of fire ran along the 
line of defenders, and then as fast as the Chassepots could be 
reloaded a rolling fire broke out. So heavy was it that before 
crossing a third of the intervening space the Germans wavered, 
hesitated, and then ran back to their shelter. 

“Bravo! bravo!” Des Valles shouted, springing to his feet 
in his excitement, but as he spoke the enemy’s fire broke out 
again, “ Vive la France ! ” he shouted, and then fell heavily 
backwards. 

His fall was noticed only by those nearest to him, for the 
Franc-tireurs were all busy. The rattle of musketry in the 
houses to their right showed that the French were still holding 
their own. 

The Germans were apparently waiting for reinforcements be- 
fore they attempted another rush against the position held by 
their invisible foes. They in turn loop-holed the wall they held 
and the musketry duel continued. Between the walls were two 
lines of low hedges, but the leaves had fallen and each party 
could see the loopholes through which their opponents fired. 
Henri Vaucour, who was now in command, ordered half the men 
to crawl back to the next wall some fifty paces in the rear and 
to loop-hole that. 

“ The next time they come,” he said, “ they will be too strong 
for us and we must fall back.” The remainder of the men he 
placed near the two ends of the wall, so that as they fell back 
their comrades behind could open their fire and so cover their 
retreat. It was another quarter of an hour before the Germans 
made a move. Then a great body of men sprang over the wall. 
Forty rifles were discharged simultaneously, then Henri’s 
whistle rang out. The men leaped to their feet, and at the top 
of their speed ran to the wall behind them, from which their 
comrades were pouring a stream of fire into the Germans. 
Several fell as they ran, the rest on gaining the wall threw them- 
selves over, and as soon as they had reloaded joined its de- 
fenders. The Germans, however, were still pressing on, when 
they were taken in flank by a heavy fire from the back of the 
houses held by the French, and they got no farther than the 


l6o A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 

wall that had just been vacated. Then the musketry duel re* 
commenced under the same conditions as before. The company 
had already lost thirty men, ten lay by the wall they had de- 
fended, killed by bullets that had passed through the loop-holes ; 
eight more were stretched on the ground that they had just 
traversed. The rest had made their way to the rear, wounded, 
Cuthbert had had a finger of the left hand carried away as he 
was in the act of firing. He had felt a stinging blow but had 
thought little of it until he had taken his position behind the 
second wall.” 

“ Tie my handkerchief over this, Rene,” he said, “fortunately 
it is only the left hand, and a finger more or less makes little 
odds. Where is Dampierre ? I don’t see him.” 

“ I am afraid he is lying under that wall there,” Rene said ; 
“ at any rate I don’t see him here ; he ought to be the third man 
from me. Minette will go out of her mind if he is killed,” but 
they had no further time for talking, and as soon as his hand 
was bandaged, Cuthbert took his place at a loophole. 

“ I think things are better,” he said, after a few minutes, to 
Rene. “The shells are not falling round us as they did. The 
heavy guns at St. Maur must have silenced the German batteries, 
and I fancy, by the heavy firing from the other end of the vil- 
lage, that we have been reinforced.” 

This was indeed the case. For some time the Prussians con- 
tinued to make obstinate efforts to advance, but gradually the 
number of defenders of the village increased, as the French 
officers managed to rally small parties of the fugitives at the 
bridge and led them forward again, their efforts being aided by 
the mounted gendarmes, who, riding among the soldiers, beat 
them with the fiat of their swords, and literally drove them for- 
ward again. 

By eleven o’clock the line of the Franc-tireurs had been 
thickened by the fresh arrivals, and the roar of rifles along the 
wall was continuous. The French, who had hitherto fought 
silently, now began to cheer, and when a regiment came up in 
something like fair order through the gardens, its colonel 
shouted, “ Forward men, and drive the Germans out.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


i6l 


With a cheer of anticipated triumph those who had so stub- 
bornly defended the position sprang up, and the whole rushed 
forward against the enemy. A tremendous volley flashed from 
the wall in front of them. Cuthbert felt that he was falling. 
The thought flashed through his mind that his foot had caught 
in something, and then he knew nothing more. When he re- 
covered consciousness he was lying with a score of others on 
the floor of a kitchen. There was a gaping hole in the roof 
and loop-holes in the walls, but of this at present he saw 
nothing. A man with a lantern was standing beside him^ 
while another was doing something, he didn’t know what, 
to him. 

“ What is it ? ” he muttered. 

“You are wounded, mon brave, and seriously I am afraid, but 
not fatally — at least I hope not.” 

“ Is this Champigny ? ” 

“Yes.”. 

“ Then we have held the village ? ” 

“ Yes, we beat the Prussians back all along the line, they 
could not stand our artillery-fire. There, I have bandaged you 
up for the present, to-morrow morning you will be taken into 
Paris.” 

“ I should like to go to the American ambulance, if you can 
manage it. Doctor,” Cuthbert said. “ I am an Englishman and 
have friends there.” 

“ I will manage it if I can for you, lad. Your corps has done 
splendidly to-day. Everyone says if it had not been for you, 
Champigny would have been lost. So you well deserve any- 
thing I can do for you.” 

The desperate defence of Champigny had indeed saved that 
portion of the French army across the river from destruction. 
It had given time for the fugitives to rally, and as if ashamed 
of the panic to w^hich they had given way, they had afterwards 
fought steadily and well, and had driven the Germans back 
beyond the line they had occupied the night before, Brie-sur- 
Marne being now in the possession of the French, having been 
carried by a desperate assault, in which General Ducrot led 
II 


i 62 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


the way at the head of the troops. During the various opera- 
tions they had lost about i,ooo killed and 5,000 wounded. 

The four days that had elapsed since Mary Brander had said 
good-bye to Cuthbert at the entrance to the ambulance, had 
effected a marked change in her appearance. She had returned 
to her work on the Monday morning, but no fresh cases had 
come in, for there had been a lull in the skirmishes at the out- 
posts. During the last few days the beds had been cleared out 
as much as possible to make room for the expected influx, and 
there was but little for her to do. After going round the tent 
of which she had charge, the American surgeon put his hand 
upon her shoulder. 

“ You are no better, Miss Brander,” he said. “ This is too 
much for you. I did not expect to see you break down, for I 
have noticed that your nerves were as steady as those of an old 
hospital nurse. Though you naturally lost your color, when 
standing by with the sponge at some of those operations, there 
was no flinching or hesitation ; but I see that, though you did 
not show it at the time, it has told upon you. I shall be 
sorry to lose your services, especially at the present moment ; 
but I think you had better give it up for a time. We have 
plenty of volunteers, you know.” 

“ I will stay on, if you please. Dr. Swinburne. It is not the 
work, but the suspense, that has upset me. One has been ex- 
pecting this dreadful battle to begin for the last three days, and 
to know that at any moment now 200,000 men may fly at each 
other, and that thousands upon thousands may be killed is 
almost too awful to think about. The silence seems so oppres- 
sive, one knows that they are gathering and preparing, and that 
while all seems so still, we may suddenly hear the roar of the 
cannon all round. I think when it once begins I shall be my- 
self again. It is the waiting that is so oppressive.” 

“ I can understand that,” he said, kindly. “ It is the same 
thing with the troops themselves. It is the pause before a great 
battle that shakes the nerves of the men. As soon as the work 
begins the feeling passes off and the man who, a few minutes 
before, was as weak as a child, feels the blood rushing hotly 


A GIRL OR THE COMMUNE, 163 

through his veins, and the burning desire to get at his enemy 
overpowers all sense of danger. Well, as there is really noth- 
ing for you to do to-day, for there are three of you in this tent 
and only four beds occupied, you had better put your bonnet 
on again, child ; a brisk walk will be the best thing for you ; 
try and interest yourself in what you see passing round you. 
From what I hear the fighting will not begin until to-morrow 
morning, and it must be later in the day before the wounded 
begin to come in. So, though you can return and take charge 
again to-night if you like, there will be really no occasion for 
you to do so until to-morrow, say at twelve o’clock ; but mind, 
unless you are looking a good deal better, I shall send you off 
again ; my assistants will need all their nerve for the work we 
are likely to have on hand. Indeed, I must beg you to do so. 
Miss Brander, nothing is so trying as sitting in idleness. I 
shall really want your services to-morrow, and for my own sake, 
as well as yours, I must insist upon my orders being obeyed.” 

Mary Brander conscientiously tried to carry out the doctor’s 
instructions, walked briskly along the Boulevards, and then go- 
ing up the Champs Elysees, and turning to the left, went to the 
edge of the plateau above the river, and there sat down on a 
bench and looked over the country to the south. There were 
many groups of people gathered at this point ; most of them, 
doubtless, like herself, had friends in the army gathered outside 
the walls, and were too anxious and restless to remain indoors ; 
but although her eyes were fixed on the country beyond the 
forts, Mary Brander did not take in the scene. She was think- 
ing, as she had been for the last two days, and was full of regrets 
for the past. She had not altogether admitted this to herself, 
but she knew now that it was so, although she had fought hard 
and angrily with herself before she owned it. 

“ He was right,” she said to herself bitterly, “ when he said 
that I had not yet discovered that I had a heart as well as a 
head. We are miserable creatures, we women. A man can go 
straight on his way through life — he can love, he can marry, 
but it makes no change in his course. I know I read some- 
where that love is but an incident in a man’s life, while it is 


164 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


a woman’s all, or something of that sort. I laughed at the idea 
then as absurd — now that it is too late I see it is true. He 
loved me, or, at least he liked me so much that he thought it 
was love. I laughed at him, I told him he was not worthy of 
a woman’s love. He went away. Here was an end of it, as 
far as he was concerned. He lost his property and took to 
work nobly, and when we met he was just the same as he had 
been before, and treated me as if I had been a cousin, and has 
no doubt laughed many a time at the thought of that morning 
in the garden at Newquay, and indeed thought so little of it 
that he did not mind my seeing all those sketches of that woman 
in his note-books. 

“ There were three or four of them, too, stuck up on the walls 
of his room. Of course she goes there. He said she was a 
model. Of course he is fond of her. I should not have thought 
it of him, but men are wicked and women are fools,” she added, 
after a pause, “ and I do think that I am one of the most foolish 
of them. I am like a child who throws away a toy one minute 
and cries for it the next. It is horrid, and I am ashamed of 
myself, downright ashamed. I hate myself to think that just 
because a man is nice to me, and leaves me two pictures if he 
is killed, that I am to make myself miserable about him, and to 
feel that I could give up all my plans in life for his sake. I 
understand now how it is that women are content to remain 
what they are. It is because nature made them so. We are 
like weathercocks, and have no fixed point, but can be turned 
by a passing breath. 

“ We have no rights because we are content to remain slaves. 
Here is my life spoilt. A week ago I was my own mistress 
and felt as free and independent as any man ; now a thrill runs 
through me at ever cannon-shot. The things that had seemed 
so important to me then do not occupy a thought now. How- 
ever, I hope I am not quite a fool. I shall shake it off in time 
perhaps,” and she smiled pitifully, ‘‘ it will even do me good. 
I shall understand things better. Anna used to tell me I was 
intolerant and made no allowance for human nature. I laughed 
then, but she was right. When this is all over I shall go away. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


165 

I don’t suppose I shall ever see him again, and I will make up 
my mind not to think of him any more. I wonder what he is doing 
now, whether his corps went out last night or will go to-day. I 
hope they won’t be in front. They have no right to put volun- 
teers in front when they have got regular soldiers. It is 
downright wicked that he should have enlisted when it was no 
business of his. I wonder she let him do it.” 

Then she broke off, rose to her feet suddenly, and with an 
angry exclamation, “ Mary Brander, you are a weak fool,” she 
started back at a quick pace and with head erect. Again she 
walked round the Boulevards, and having thoroughly tired her- 
self, made her way home, drank a cup of bouillon made from 
horse-flesh, went straight to bed and sobbed herself to sleep. 
She woke up with a start. The house shook with the explosion 
of heavy guns. She sprang up and went to her window, threw 
it open, and looked out. 

She could see Forts Issy and Vanvres. Both were firing 
heavily, while between the booms of their guns she could hear 
the reports of others. No flashes came back from Meudon or 
any of the Prussian positions. Nor, though she held her breath 
to listen, could she hear the sound of musketry. She struck a 
match and looked at her watch. It was but one o’clock. She 
closed her window and wrapping herself up in her dressing- 
gown sat there for some time looking out. Presently the fire 
slackened and she crept back into bed, but again rose when the 
forts re-opened fire. Then feeling that sleep was impossible she 
lighted a candle and forced herself to read until daylight. She 
was dressing when the roar again broke out. This time it was 
away to the left. She threw on her things, put on her bonnet 
and cloak, and went out of her room just as M. Michaud issued 
from his. 

“ You are going out, mademoiselle. So am I. I will walk 
with you if you will allow me. I think the real thing has begun. 
The firing last night was only, I fancy, to rouse the Germans 
and make them pass as bad a night as our men were doing, but 
I think this is the real thing.” 

Mary was glad of his escort, it seemed to make it more bear- 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


1 66 

able to have someone to speak to. In a few minutes they 
reached the spot where she had sat the day before. A crowd 
were already collected. 

“ Where is it ? ” M. Michaud asked, as they joined a group 
who were gathered near the edge of the plateau. 

“ It is from the southern forts that they are firing,” the man 
said ; “ look at the smoke rolling up from them ; they are clearing 
the way for our men. There, do you see that puff of smoke away 
on the right ? That is from a battery up at Creteil, and now the 
Prussian guns on Montmesly, and all the way round Ville Juif, 
are answering. The affair is becoming hot. Listen, the Chas- 
sepots are at work.” 

Indeed, between the sounds of the cannon a continuous mur- 
mur could be heard. It sounded like a railway train passing 
over a distant viaduct. 

“ Is there any place where we can see better from ? ” 

“ You would see better from the wall over on that side, but no 
one is allowed there ; half the National Guard are under arms, 
and have taken the places on the walls of the mobiles, who have 
gone out.” 

“ It is wretched seeing nothing here,” she said, feverishly. 
“ Do you think we could get up to the top of the tower of Notre 
Dame ? ” 

“It is a long way off,” M. Michaud said, “and if people 
are permitted there you may be sure by this time there is not 
standing room. Besides, even from there the distance would- 
be too great to make out the movements of the troops.” 

Mary felt that he was right, and with a little shiver said, “ I 
will hurry back now and will then go down to the ambulance.” 

She swallowed a cup of coffee in which two eggs from the 
hidden store had been beaten up.; ate a piece of bread, and then 
started off. As she went along she gathered from the talk in 
the streets that things were believed to be going on well. The 
musketry was certainly a good deal further off, and a light smoke 
was rising far out upon the plain. “ They say that we have 
captured Montmesly, and on this side cannot be far from Ville 
Juif.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


167 

“ Ah, these Prussians have begun to learn what Paris can do.” 

“ I expect William and Bismarck are by this time packing up 
at Versailles,” another said. “ They will know that their day 
has come to an end ; everyone says they will both be hung if 
we catch them.” 

Mary hurried on. She knew that hours must elapse before the 
wounded could be brought in, but felt a feverish anxiety to be 
at the ambulance and to hear what was said there. Just before 
she reached it the roar of the distant combat suddenly increased, 
but it seemed to her further away to the left. Dr. Swinburne 
was standing outside the tents when she came up. 

“ Do you know w'hat is going on, sir ? ” she asked, breath- 
lessly, as she came up to him. 

“ I believe that the first firing you heard was the advance of 
Vinoy, who moved out under cover of the guns of the southern 
forts. From all I hear he has advanced a considerable distance 
across the plain. I believe that the firing that has just begun 
away to the west, is the real battle. Ducrot is out there with 
100,000 men, and Vinoy’s attack is but a feint to draw the Prus- 
sians to the south, and so clear the way for Ducrot, who crosses 
the Marne and advances through Champigny. I heard the plan 
last night from one of Trochu’s staff. It seems a good one, and 
if it is carried out with spirit I see no reason why it should not 
succeed. Your rest has done you good. Miss Brander ; your 
eyes are brighter and you look more like yourself.” 

“ I feel better. Doctor. I have been rating myself soundly and 
it has done me good. I feel quite ready for work again.” 

The doctor detected a little pathetic ring beneath the almost 
defiant tone in which she uttered the words, but he only said — 

“ We all have need of a scolding occasionally, it acts as a tonic. 
I should rather like to be braced up myself for to-night’s work.” 

“It is too bad,” Mary said, almost indignantly. “You are 
always insisting on our resting ourselves and you have all the 
work on your shoulders. There are eight or ten of us, and you 
are all by yourself.” 

“Not quite by myself. Mr. Wingfield is of great assistance 
to me, and his aid will be invaluable when the rush comes. 


i68 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Besides, a surgeon, after the first operation or treatment, has 
little more to do than to watch his patient, if he has nurses that 
he can rely upon. As he goes his rounds he gets their reports, 
he knows how the patients have passed the night, and if there 
is any change in their condition, and if the wounds require re- 
bandaging you are at hand with all that is necessary. It is the 
responsibility rather than the work which tries one. Still, if one 
knows that one is doing one’s best, and that at any rate the 
wounded are very much better cared for, and have much better 
chances of recovery here than in the city hospitals, one must be 
content. Worry does no good either to one’s patients or to 
oneself. That is a maxim that does for both of us. Miss Brander. 
Now you had better go in and get everything ready. It is prob- 
able that some of those wounded early this morning may soon 
be brought in.” 

Mary went in to her marque. 

“ The child is herself on the list of wounded,” the surgeon 
said, as he looked after her. “ She has been fighting a battle 
of some sort and has been hit pretty hard. Her expression 
has changed altogether. There was a brisk alertness about 
her before and she went about her work in a resolute business 
sort of way that was almost amusing in a girl of nineteen or 
twenty. It was easy to see that she had good health, plenty of 
sense, and an abundant confidence in herself. At one moment 
she would be lecturing her patients with the gravity of a mid- 
dle-aged woman, and five minutes later chattering away with 
them like a young girl. I should have put her down as abso- 
lutely heartwhole and as never having experienced the slightest 
real care or trouble, as never having quite recognized that she 
had grown into womanhood. Well, something has occurred to 
alter all that. She has received a blow of some sort, and though 
she may soon get over it she will never be quite the same as 
she was before. If one wasn’t so weighed down with work, 
and had so many serious matters to think of, she would be an 
interesting study. I never quite understood what on earth she 
is in Paris for by herself at such a time as this. But there is 
something that will give me other matters to think of.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


169 

The something was an ambulance wagon which, a minute later, 
drew up in front of the hospital, and from that moment there was, 
indeed, no time for doctor or nurses to give a thought to anything 
save the wounded men who continued to pour in until fully half 
the 200 beds were occupied. All these men belonged to Vinoy’s 
division. Dr. Swinburne would take no more. There was al- 
ready more work to do than he could get through before next 
morning, and none of the wounded who came in later from be- 
yond the Marne were received there, but were distributed among 
the other hospitals and ambulances, at all of which preparations 
on a very large scale had been made. 

By morning the most pressing part of the work had been 
done. The wounded had been made as far as possible com- 
fortable. Some of the bullets had been extracted, some of the 
most urgent amputations made. A fresh batch of nurses ar- 
rived to take the places of the white-faced women who had 
nobly and steadily-borne their part in the trying work of the night. 

“ I thank you all, ladies,” the doctor said, as they gathered 
outside the tents before going away. “Your assistance has 
been invaluable ; no trained nurses could have shown more 
nerve and pluck than you have done. I have just learned that 
it is not likely that there will be a renewal of the fighting to-day, 
and you can therefore go home with the conviction that you 
can take your twenty-four hours off duty without fear that there 
will be any pressure in your absence. I am going to lie down 
myself for three hours. Even a surgeon has nerves, and I must 
keep mine steady. There are several operations that must be 
performed this afternoon and some bullets to hunt up. I beg 
you all to force yourselves to take something as soon as you 
get to your homes, and then to go to bed and sleep as long as 
you can.” 

It did not seem to Mary Brander when she started that she 
would be able to walk home, but the keen air revived her and 
she kept on until she entered Madame Michaud’s flat. 

“ Mon Dieu, my child, how white you look,” the French lady 
exclaimed, as the girl entered the room where she was taking 
her morning coffee. “ What a night you must have had ! ” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


170 

The need for strength was past now, and Mary sank into a 
chair and burst into a fit of hysterical sobbing. Madame 
Michaud caressed and soothed her as if she had been an over- 
tired child. 

“ There,” she said, when Mary recovered a little, “ take this 
cup of coffee and drink it. I have not touched it and there are 
two eggs beaten up in it. Margot will make me some more in 
a few minutes. Here is a fresh roll. She made a batch this 
morning in the oven ; try and eat it, my child, and drink the 
coffee, and then I will help you into bed.” 

Mary, with a great effort, ate a mouthful of bread, and drank the 
coffee, and in a quarter of an hour was asleep. It was growing 
dark when she woke, and remembering the doctor’s orders she 
got up and went into the sitting-room. Madame Michaud kissed 
her affectionately. 

“Now, you are looking more like yourself, my child; truly 
you looked like a ghost when you came in. It is the husband’s 
turn for duty on the walls so we can sit and have a cosy chat 
together. Well,” she went on, when Mary had taken a seat 
that she had placed for her by the stove, “ all is going on fa- 
mously. We have pushed the Germans back everywhere and 
Trochu’s proclamation says the plans have been carried out 
exactly as arranged. There has not been much fighting to-day, 
we have hardly had a gun fired. Everyone is rejoicing, and all 
the world agrees that now the Prussians have seen how we can 
fight they will speedily take themselves off altogether.” 

“ I hope it is so, Madame Michaud ; certainly the wounded 
said that they had advanced a long way on the south side, but 
I have not heard at all what was done on the other side of the 
Marne. None of the wounded from there were brought to our 
hospital. 

“ Champigny was taken. They say that there was a hard 
fight there and we pushed the Prussians back beyond it ever 
so far,” and Madame Michaud’s arms expressed illimitable 
distance. 

“ I suppose there are no reports as to what regiments were 
engaged,” Mary asked. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


171 

“ Oh, no, but everyone says that the soldiers fought like 
lions and that the National Guard was splendid.” 

“ There were none of the National Guards brought in wounded 
to our ambulance,” Mary said. “ They were all linesmen and 
mobiles.” 

“ Perhaps there were no National Guards engaged on that 
side, my dear.” 

“ Perhaps not,” Mary agreed. “ No, I think they all went 
out by the east gates.” 

“ Yes, that was where Ducrot commanded and that was where 
the great fight was to be,” Madame Michaud said, compla- 
cently ; “ no doubt he wanted to have the National Guards 
there.” 

Mary, having, as the result of her own observations and from 
imbibing the very pronunced opinions of Cuthbert as to the 
efficiency of the National Guard, formed an estimate the reverse 
of favorable to that body, made no reply, but indeed derived 
some little comfort from a point of view diametrically opposed 
to that of Madame Michaud, saying to herself that Trochu prob- 
ably sent the National Guard with Ducrot because it was not 
likely that they would be called upon to do any serious fight- 
ing there. 

“ Won’t you let the boys in, Madame Michaud ? ” she said, 
changing the subject. “ I think their chatter would do me good, 
my brain seems stupid still.” 

The boys were brought in from the next room, where they 
were doing their lessons. They were full of the reports they 
had gathered from their school-fellows, and if but half of these 
had been true it was evident that the remnant of the German 
army were in full flight towards the frontier, and that the bravest 
deeds of antiquity faded into insignificance by the side of 
the heroism displayed by the French soldiers. Their talk and 
excitement had the effect of rousing Mary and preventing her 
thoughts reverting to the scene in the ambulance, and at half- 
past nine she again went off to bed feeling, more like herself than 
she had done for some days. 


172 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Mary Brander was, as usual, called before daylight by 
Margot, and was dressing when a sound like the rumbling of a 
heavy wagon, caused her to pause suddenly, and then hurry to 
the window and throw it open. 

“ They have begun again,” she exclaimed, “ and the firing is 
heavier than it was before. It comes from the east. It must 
be Trochu’s force engaged again.” 

She hastily completed her toilet, drank off the coffee Margot 
had got ready for her, and then started on her way to the am- 
bulance. 

“ It is louder than ever,” she exclaimed. “ It must be a ter- 
rible battle.” 

The roar of the cannon never ceased. The windows and 
doors were all open as she went along, and women in various 
states of dishabille were talking excitedly to each other from 
the former across the street ; while the men, equally excited, 
were discussing the battle in groups. All agreed that the forts 
in the loop of the Marne were engaged. This caused some 
disappointment. 

“ We can’t be so far out as we thought,” one said, “ or we 
should be beyond range of the guns.” 

“ Perhaps the Germans are attacking us,” an old man sug- 
gested, but the idea was received with derision, and Mary 
caught no more of the conversation as she hurried along. 

It was an absolute relief to her when she entered the ambu- 
lance, for the continued roar of the guns and the thought of 
what was going on were well nigh intolerable to her nerves, and 
her hands were shaking as she removed her bonnet and cloak. 
Even the quiet hospital tents shared in the excitement outside. 
The patients whose hurts were comparatively slight were sitting 
up in their beds discussing the battle eagerly. Others more seri- 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 




ously hurt raised their heads to listen, while some lying ap- 
parently unconscious moaned and moved uneasily, muttering 
occasionally incoherent words, the quiver in earth and air 
arousing a dim sense of battle and danger. 

“ More work for us,” Dr. Swinburne said, as he passed her, 
while she was trying to soothe a restless patient into quiet 
again. 

“ I am afraid so, Doctor, and by the sound it will be even 
worse than the last.” 

“ The loss is not always proportionate to the noise,” he said, 
cheerfully, “ the forts may be merely preparing a way for a 
general advance. They said it was to begin this morning.” 

As before it was not until evening that the wounded began 
to come in. Those who were first brought were sombre and 
depressed. It was the Germans who were attacking ; the 
French had been surprised and badly beaten. But later on the 
news was better. Champigny had been nobly defended, the. 
French had rallied, and, after hard fighting, the Prussians were 
driven back and all the ground lost recovered. Some of the 
wounded had been among those who had defended Champigny. 
To these Mary put the question she had asked of others who 
were not too severely wounded to be able to talk. “ Who had 
taken part in the fight ? ” The mobiles and the line had all 
been engaged. 

“But there were no National Guards, Nurse.” 

“ Had they seen any Franc-tireurs ? ” 

Hitherto the answer to the question had been, no ; but the 
men from Champigny gave a different answer. 

Yes, a corps had fought there ; they did not know who they 
were. They were dressed in gray. Whoever they were they 
fought like tigers. It was they, they all agreed, who saved 
Champigny. 

“ The Prussians were advancing,” one said, “ and we could 
not have held out much longer. They were advancing by the 
road, and through the gardens ; it was all over with us, when 
the men in gray came up.” 

“ I was at the barricade,” one said, “ there were not twenty 


174 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


of US left there when a company arrived. If they had fought 
in a hundred battles they could not have done better. They 
had their colonel with them. A fine old militaire. He w^as 
killed by my side. The Prussians never got a foot further, for 
though we were hard pressed -again and again we held our 
ground till the cowards, who had run, began to come back again. 
It was hot, mademoiselle. I can tell you it was a rain-storm of 
bullets, and their shell fell every moment among us, and it 
would have been all up with them if the batteries had not 
silenced their guns.” 

“ I was in one of the houses,” his comrade put in ; “ we were 
doing our best to prevent the Prussians coming up through the 
gardens behind, but there were but few of us, and they were 
some hundreds strong. If they had gone on they would have 
caught us all in a trap, and we were just going to warn the 
others to fall back when we saw the Franc-tireurs come run- 
ning up. They were smart fellows as well as brave ones. They 
knocked loopholes through a wall in no time and clung to it 
for an hour, at least. Then the Prussians were reinforced 
heavily. The Franc-tireurs fell back to the next wall, and 
when the Prussians rushed forward, they gave it them hotly 
while we took them in flank from the houses ; they must have 
a hundred and fifty men left behind them when they rushed 
back to the wall they had advanced from. 

“ And did the Franc-tireurs suffer much } ” Mary asked. 

“ I should say they lost more than half their number. When 
they formed up after the fighting was over and the Prussians 
driven back, we gave them a hearty cheer. I believe there were 
three companies of them when they came up, and altogether 
there were not more than a strong company paraded. You 
must not think that all the others were killed, mademoiselle,” 
seeing by Mary’s face that the news was terrible to her. “ Of 
those wlio didn’t parade you may reckon that two-thirds were 
only wounded.” 

“ Not so many as that,” the other, who had not observed 
Mary’s face, said, “they were not the fellows to fall out for a 
slight wound. Why, the best part of those who paraded had 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


175 

hurts, and I fancy some of them were serious, though they did 
their best to make light of it, and waved their caps when we 
cheered them. You may be sure that those who were missing 
must have been hard hit indeed.” 

“ Imbecile beast,” his comrade growled, as Mary moved 
silently away, “ could you not see by her face that the girl had 
friends in that corps ? Didn’t you notice how pleased she 
looked when we praised their bravery and how white her face 
came, when I said what their losses were. I tried to comfort 
her by making out that most of the missing might be only 
wounded, and then, imbecile that you are, you break in with 
your talk and as good as tell her that if they ain’t all dead, 
they are likely to be so before long.” 

“ I would have bit my tongue out before I would have said 
so,” the other said, penitently, “ but I did not notice her looks. 
Do you think I would have said it if I had, just as she had 
been bandaging our wounds, too, like a little mother.” 

The Franc-tireurs remained in the village all night, and as 
soon as they fell out had scattered over the whole ground, col- 
lected the dead and laid them together and brought the wounded 
into the houses. 

The soldier’s estimate was not far wrong ; the number of the 
dead exceeded that of the wounded and most of these were 
very seriously hurt. Of those found lying behind the walls 
many had been killed outright, being struck on the head by 
bullets through the loopholes, behind which they were firing ; 
but of those hit during the retreat, or when at last they took 
the offensive, many of the wounds, though of a disabling, were 
not of a fatal nature. The company on the other side of the 
village had not been pressed so severely, but the Prussian shell 
had fallen thickly there, and a large proportion of the wounds 
were caused by fragments of shell or stone. The company 
which held the barricade had comparatively few wounded, but 
had lost half their number by bullets through the head as they 
fired over its crest. 

It was hard work, indeed, for the surgeons and nurses that 
night. For many nothing could be done, they were beyond the 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


176 

reach of surgical aid ; but not only was there the work of ban* 
daging wounds, but of giving drink and soup to all that could 
take them, of writing down last messages to friends from those 
among the dying who retained their consciousness, or in aiding 
Dr. Swinburne and his assistant in their work, and in tempo- 
rarily bandaging the wounds of those for whom nothing else 
could be done till daylight. At eight o’clock next morning an 
ambulance wagon drew up to the door and an orderly came in 
to the doctor with a message. 

“ I have six wounded here. The surgeon told me to tell 
you that one of them had particularly wished to be brought up 
to your ambulance, and as the others all belonged to the same 
corps I was to leave them here.” 

“ I will see if there is room,” the doctor said, and calling one 
of the gentlemen who aided in the service of the ambulance, 
asked him, ‘ ‘ Do you know, Wilson, how many have died in 
the night ? ” 

“ Eight or ten. Doctor.” 

“ Well, get Phillips and Grant to help you to carry out six of 
them ; lay them in that empty tent for the present. As soon as 
you have done that bring the six wounded in from the wagon 
outside.” 

In a few minutes the injured men were brought in. 

‘‘Ah, they are Franc-tireurs,” the doctor said. 

They are Franc-tireurs des ^ficoles,” the orderly, who had 
accompanied them, said ; “ the surgeon said they were all stu- 
dents. They deserve good treatment. Doctor, for no men could 
have fought better than they did. Everyone says that they 
saved Champigny.” 

“ Put them together, Wilson, if you can, or at any rate in 
pairs. They are students of the University, the art schools^ 
and so on. If there are not two empty beds together put them 
anywhere for the present ; we can shift the -beds about in a day 
or two when we get breathing-time.” 

“ There are two vacant beds in No. 2 marque. Doctor.” 

The doctor stepped to the litter that had just been carried 
in. Its occupant was sensible. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


177 


** Is there any one of your comrades you would prefer to be 
placed in the bed next to you ? ” he asked in French. 

“Yes, Doctor,’^ he replied in English. “The tall fellow who 
was next to me in the wagon. I am a countryman of yours, 
and Re is an Englishman, and we are in the same art school.” 

“ An American } ” Dr. Swinburne replied. “ I am glad, 
indeed, they brought you here. You may be sure that we will 
do everything we can to make you comfortable. I will attend 
to you directly I have seen the others brought in.” 

Mary Brander’s heart gave a bound as she saw the wounded 
man brought in, for she recognized the uniform at once. A 
glance, however, at the dark head reassured her. As soon as 
the stretcher was laid down by the bed which was the last in 
the line, and the wounded man was lifted on to it she went as 
usual with a glass of weak spirits and water to his side. 

“ Will you drink, monsieur,” she asked, in French. 

“ I am an American,” he said, with a faint smile, “ as I sup- 
pose you are.” 

“ No, I am English, which is nearly the same thing.” 

“I must trouble you to hold it to my lips,” he said, “for as 
you see my right arm is useless, my collar-bone is broken, I 
believe, and my shoulder-blade smashed. However, it might 
be worse.” 

She held a glass to his lips. As he drank a sudden thought 
struck her. 

“ Are you Arnold Dampierre t ” she asked. 

“ That is certainly my name,” he said, “ though I cannot 
think how you guess it.” 

“ I have heard of you from a friend of mine, Cuthbert Har- 
tington. Can you tell me, sir, if he is hurt ? ” 

“Then you must be Miss Brander. Yes, I am sorry to say 
he is hurt. I don’t know how badly,” he went on hurriedly, as 
he saw the look of pain in her face. “ I did not see him until 
we were put in the wagon next to each other, and he was not 
much up to talking, and in fact its motion was too much for 
him and he fainted, but no doubt he will soon come round. 
They are bringing him into the next bed. Perhaps it will be 
12 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


178 

better for you if you were to let one of the other nurses attend 
to him until he comes round a bit.” 

But Mary shook her head silently. She had been trembling 
as she asked the question, but she stood stiff and rigid as 
Cuthbert was brought up. She gave one short gasp when she 
saw his face as they lowered the litter to the ground. Then 
she hurried to the table on which the glasses were standing, 
poured some brandy into a tumbler, and was turning when the 
surgeon entered the tent. She put down the glass, hurried up 
to him, and laid a fluttering hand on his arm. 

“ Come, Doctor ; please come quickly.” 

A momentary flash of surprise crossed his face. However, 
he said nothing but quickened his steps and stood by the pallet 
on to which Cuthbert had just been lifted. A shade passed 
over his face ; he put his hand on Cuthbert’s wrist, then knelt 
down and placed his ear over his heart. 

“ Is he dead } ” Mary asked in a whisper, as he rose to his 
feet again. 

“ No, no, my dear, I hope he is worth many dead men yet ; he 
has fainted from the jolting of the wagon just as many others 
that you have seen have done. Fetch that brandy you have 
just poured out. He is hard hit,” and he pointed to a blood- 
stained patch in his shirt just above the waistband of his trou- 
sers. “ There is no doubt about that, but we shall know more 
about it presently.” 

As she hurried off to fetch the brandy the doctor’s lips 
tightened. 

“ It is fifty to one against him,” he muttered, “ still, I have 
seen men live with similar wounds.” 

He took the glass from Mary’s hands as she returned and 
poured a little between Cuthbert’s lips. Then he listened to 
the heart’s beating again. 

“It is stronger already,” he said, encouragingly to Mary. 
“ Now, my dear, you had better go out for a few minutes and 
get a little fresh air. Ask Mrs. Stanmore to come here. I 
must try and find out where the bullet has gone.” As she 
moved away he went on, “ Wait here a minute, Wilson, I shall 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


179 


want to turn him over directly. Now for the wound. Ah! 
I thought so ! as he removed a lightly fastened bandage and 
lifted a pad of lint beneath it. 

“ There has been no bleeding since he was taken up. No 
doubt he fell forward at first. Now turn him over. Ah, the 
bullet has gone right thtough ! He must have been hit by a 
shot fired at close quarters. Well, that will save us trouble 
and the chances of complications. It is now a simple question 
of how much damage it did as it passed through. Ah, Mrs. 
Stanmore,” he went on as the nurse came up with a tray of 
bandages and other necessaries, “ I find that there is not much 
to do here.” 

He took two small pieces of lint and rolled them up, poured 
a few drops of carbolic acid on to them, placed one in each 
orifice, put pads of lint over them, and passed a bandage twice 
round the body to keep them in place. 

“ Thank you, Wilson, that will do for the present. Please 
pour a little strong brandy and water down his throat, Mrs. 
Stanmore. Now I will see to the next man. How are you 
hurt ? In the shoulder, I see, by your bandages.” 

“ I was lying down behind a wall. Doctor, and raised myself 
slightly to fire through a loophole when a bullet came through. 
I heard the surgeon say that it had smashed the collar-bone, 
and had gone out through the bone behind. I don’t know 
what he called it, but it is what I should call the shoulder-bone.” 

“ Well, in that case you are in luck,” the surgeon said, “ if 
it had glanced more downwards you would have been a dead 
man five minutes after you were hit. Do you feel comfortable 
at present?” 

“ As comfortable as I can expect.” 

“ Then in that case I won’t disturb the bandages. They are 
all tight now, and the man who bandaged you evidently knew 
what he was about, which ^ is more than I can say for some of 
those who have sent me in specimens of their handiwork. 
For the present there is nothing for you to do but to lie quiet. 
I will have a look at you again later, there are so many cases 
that must be attended to at once.” 


i8o A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 

“ I am in no hurry, I can assure you, Doctor. I suffered too 
much when they bandaged me to want a repetition of it until 
it is absolutely necessary.” 

The doctor nodded and then hurried off to visit the men who 
had been carried off into the other marquees. As he pushed 
aside the flaps at the entrance he stopped abruptly, for a few 
yards away Mary Brander was lying insensible on the ground, 
now covered with a light sprinkle of snow that had fallen in 
the morning. 

“ Poor little girl ! ” he said, as he raised her in his arms, and 
carried her into his own tent and placed her in a rocking-chair, 
“ this affair coming on the top of the work last night has been 
too much for her.” He went into the next marque. 

“ Miss Betham,” he said to one of the nurses, “ Miss Brander 
has just broken down ; she has fainted. You will find her in 
a chair in my tent. Take a bottle of salts and a little brandy. 
When she comes round make her lie down on the bed there, 
tell her that my orders are absolute, that she is to keep quiet 
for a time. She is not to go to work in the wards again and 
she is not to leave my tent until I have seen her. There is no 
getting a conveyance, and she w'on’t be fit to walk home for 
some time.” 

An hour later Dr. Swinburne snatched a moment from his 
work and looked in at his tent. Mary sprang up from the bed 
as he entered. 

“ That is right, my dear,” he said, “ I see you are active 
again. I am sure you will be glad to hear that the patient you 
called me to has recovered consciousness. The bullet passed 
right through him, which is a good sign. So that trouble is 
disposed of. As to the future I can say nothing as yet. Of 
course it depends upon what damage the ball did on its way 
through. However, I am inclined to view the case favorably. 
I can only judge by his face, and, although it is, of course, 
white and drawn, there is not that ashen sort of pallor which 
is almost a sure sign of injury to vital parts.” 

“ Then you think there is some hope. Doctor,” she asked, 
with her hands lightly clasped before her. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


i8l 


“ Honestly, I think there is. * He must, of course, be kept 
absolutely free from anything like agitation, and if you think 
your presence is likely to agitate him in the slightest degree, 
I should say that when you come to work again you had better 
exchange into one of the other wards.” 

“ It will not agitate him in the least. Doctor,” she said, after 
a moment’s pause, “ I can answer for that. We are old friends, 
for he has known me since I was a little child ; we are more 
like cousins than anything else, and if he knows which ambu- 
lance he is in, I am sure he will be surprised if I do not come 
to him.” 

“ I think it is likely he will guess,” Dr. Swinburne said, “ when 
he hears the nurses speaking English ; and, indeed, it seems that 
either he or one of the others particularly asked to be sent here. 
If it is as you say, your presence may do him good rather than 
harm, and you can go to him for a short time ; but remember 
that you are not fit for nursing and that the sooner you are able 
to get home again the better. You have been on duty more 
than tw^enty-four hours and it has been a terribly trying time 
for you all.” 

Mary nodded. 

“ I really feel better now. Doctor. I have been very anxious 
about Mr. Hartington ever since I knew that his corps had 
gone out, and I think suspense is harder to bear than anything. 
You will see I shan’t break down again.” 

“ If you do. Miss Brander, remember I shall have to take 
your name off the list of nurses. We have enough to do and 
think about here without having fainting young ladies on our 
hands.” He spoke gravely, but Mary saw he was not really 
in earnest. 

“I never thought,” she said, “that I should come under the 
category of a fainting young lady, and I feel humiliated. Then 
I may go in. Doctor ? ” 

“ Yes, if you are sure of yourself and are certain that it won’t 
agitate him.” 

A minute later she stood by Cuthbert’s side. He was lying 
on his back with his eyes open. A hospital rug had been 


i 82 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


thrown over him. As she bent over him his eyes fell on her 
face and he smiled faintly. 

“ I was wondering whether you had heard I was here,” he 
said, in a voice so low that she could scarce hear it. “ Well, 
you see, I brought my eggs to a bad market, and your friends, 
the Prussians, have given me a lesson I would not learn from 
you. But we beat them fairly and squarely, there is a satisfac- 
tion in that.” 

“There does not seem much consolation in it, Cuthbert,” 
she said, quietly. 

“ There is to me,” he said, “ that shows you are not a 
soldier. To a soldier it makes all the difference as he lies 
wounded, whether he has shared in a victory or suffered in a 
defeat.” 

“ Then I am very glad that you have won if it makes any 
difference to you, Cuthbert. Now you know you have to lie 
very still, and I am sure talking is very bad for you.” 

“ I don’t suppose it makes any difference one way or the 
other, Mary. A few hours, perhaps, but whether it is to-day 
or to-morrow is immaterial.” 

“You must not talk like that, Cuthbert, and you must not 
think so. The doctor says that although, of course, you are 
badly wounded, he thinks there is every hope for you.” 

“ So the surgeon said who dressed my wounds last night, 
Mary, but I knew that he did not really think so.” 

“ But I am sure Dr. Swinburne does think so, Cuthbert. I 
am certain that he was not trying to deceive me.” 

“ Well, I hope that he is right,” Cuthbert replied, but with 
the indifference common to men in extreme weakness. “ I 
should certainly like to give the finishing touches to those two 
pictures. There is nothing else to show for my life. Yes, I 
should like to finish them. You are looking bad yourself,” he 
added, suddenly, “ all this is too much for you.” 

“ I am only tired,” she said, “ and of course it has been try- 
ing work for the last twenty-four hours.” 

“ Well, you must go home and get some rest. If I had been 
going soon I should have liked you to have stopped with me 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


183 

till I went, but if, as you say, the doctor thinks I may last for a 
time it does not matter, and I would rather know that you were 
getting a rest than that you were wearing yourself out here. 
What o’clock is it now ? ” 

“ It is just two. Please don’t worry about me. If I were to 
break down there are plenty to take my place, but I am not 
going to. Anyhow I shall wait to hear what Dr. Swinburne 
says when he next comes round, and then if the report is favor- 
able I shall go home for the night and be here again the first 
thing in the morning. Are you in much pain, Cuthbert ? ” 

“ No, I am in no pain at all. I just feel numbed and a little 
drowsy, and my feet are cold.” 

Mary went away, filled a tin bottle with hot water and placed 
it at his feet, and then covered them over with another rug. 

“ Now you must not talk any more, Cuthbert. Your hands 
are cold, let me put the rug over them. There, you look more 
comfortable. Now shut your eyes and try to get to sleep until 
the doctor comes round.” 

Cuthbert closed his eyes at once. Mary went about the ward 
doing her work for the next two hours, returning at frequent 
intervals to the bedside, and seeing with satisfaction that he 
was sleeping quietly. At four o’clock the surgeon came in. 
She was occupied in serving out some soup to the patients and 
did not go round with him. She had finished her work when 
he returned to where she was standing near the entrance. 

“ I did not wake him,” he said, in answer to her look, “ but 
his pulse is stronger, and the action of his heart regular. 
There is certainly a good chance for him. My hopes that there 
is no vital injury are strengthened. He will, I hope, sleep for 
hours, perhaps till morning. By that time I may be able to 
give a more decided opinion. Now, I think you had better be 
off at once. I can see you have recovered your nerve, but there 
will be a dozen fresh nurses here in a few minutes, and I shall 
clear you all out. Do you feel strong enough to walk home ? ” 

“ Oh, yes. Doctor, I may come in the first thing in the morn- 
ing, mayn’t 1 1 ” 

“ Yes, if you feel equal to it. It is possible,” he thought to 


184 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


himself, as he went to the next marquee, “ that the poor fellow 
only regards her as a cousin, but I am greatly mistaken if she 
has not very much warmer feelings towards him, though she 
did so stoutly declare that they were but old friends.’' 

Mary, putting on her bonnet and cloak, went out. As she 
did so, a man, in the uniform of the Franc-tireurs, and a young 
woman approached. 

“ Pardon, mademoiselle,” he said, lifting his cap as he came 
up to her, “ is it possible for friends to visit the wounded } ” 

Mary glanced at the speaker’s companion and at once rec- 
ognized her. It was the face of which she had seen so many 
drawings in Cuthbert’s sketch-book. 

“ It is not possible to-day,” she said, “ except in extreme 
cases. There have been many applicants, but they have all 
been refused.” 

“ I fear this is an extreme case,” Rene, for it was he, urged. 
“ It is a comrade of mine, and the surgeon told me after ex- 
amining him that he was hit very seriously. This lady is his 
fiancee.” 

“ I know who you mean,” Mary said, after a moment’s silence, 
“ but she could not see him even if she were his wife. He is 
asleep now and everything depends upon his sleep being un- 
broken.” 

“ If I could only see him I would not wake him,” the woman 
wailed, while Rend asked — 

“ Can you tell us if there are any hopes for him ? ” 

“ The surgeon says there are some hopes,’” Mary said, coldly, 
“ but that everything depends upon his being kept perfectly 
quiet. However, I have no power in the matter. I am off duty 
now, and you had better apply to Mrs. Stanmore. She is in 
charge of the ward. It is the farthest of the three marquees.” 

“ What is that woman to him ? ” Minette exclaimed, passion- 
ately, as Mary walked on. “ She loves him or she hates him. 
I saw her look at me as you spoke first, and her face changed. 
She knew me though I did not know her.” 

“ Oh, that is all fancy, Minette. How can she know Arnold ? 
She is tired and worn out, Parbleu, they must have had ter- 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


rible work there since the sortie began. It is getting dark, but 
it is easy to see how pale and worn out she looked. For my 
part I would rather go through that fight in the garden again 
than work for twenty-four hours in a hospital.” 

“ She knows him,” the girl said, positively. 

“ Well, let us go on. This woman may give you leave to go 
in.” 

But Mrs. Stanmore was also firm in her refusal. 

“ We cannot allow even the nearest relatives to enter,” she 
said, “ we are all taken up by duty and cannot have strangers 
in the wards ; but if the patient is likely to die and wishes to 
see a friend or relative in the city we send for him or her. If 
you will give me your name and address I will see that you 
are sent for should the patient ask for you. The rule I can 
assure you is absolute, and I have no power whatever to 
grant permission to anyone except in the case I have named.” 

Minette went away raving, and it needed indeed all Rend’s 
remonstrances and entreaties to induce her to leave. 

“ It is clear,” he said, “ that he cannot be near death ; were 
he so he would assuredly ask for you. So after all it is good 
news that you have received, and as I told you all along, though 
the surgeon said that it was a serious wound, he did not say that 
it was likely to be fatal, as he did in the case of Cuthbert Har- 
tington. These army surgeons do not mince matters, and there 
was no reason why he should not have said at once to me that 
the American was likely to die if he thought it would be so.” 

“ I will go to see him to-morrow,” she said, with an angry 
stamp of her foot. “ If the women try to prevent me I will tear 
their faces. If the men interfere to stop me I will scream so 
loud that they will be forced to let* me in. It is abominable 
to keep a woman from the bedside of the man she loves.” 

“ It is of no use you talking in that wild way, Minette,” Rend 
said, sternly ; “ how do you suppose a hospital is to be managed 
if every sick man is to have women sitting at his bed. It is 
childish of you to talk so, and most ungrateful. These for- 
eigners are supporting this ambulance at their own expense. 
The ladies are working like slaves to succor our wounded and 


i86 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


you go on like a passionate child because, busy as they are, 
they are obliged to adhere to their regulations. At any rate I 
will come here with you no more. I am not going to see these 
kind people insulted.” 


CHAPTER XV. 

Mary Brander made her way w^earily home. 

“You have had another terrible time, I can see it in your 
face,” Madame Michaud said, as she entered. “They say there 
have been four thousand wounded and fifteen hundred killed. 
I cannot understand how you support such scenes.” 

“ It has been a hard time,” Mary said ; “ I will go up to my 
room at once, madame. I am worn out.” 

“ Do so, my dear. I will send you in a basin of broth.” 

Without even taking her bonnet off Mary dropped into a 
chair when she entered her room and sat there till Margot 
brought in the broth. 

“ I don’t think I can take it, thank you, Margot.” 

“But you must take it, mademoiselle,” the servant said, 
sturdily ; “ but wait a moment, let me take off your bonnet and 
brush your hair. There is nothing like having your hair brushed 
when you are tired.” 

Passively Mary submitted to the woman’s ministrations, and 
presently felt soothed, as Margot with, by no means ungentle 
hands, brushed steadily the long hair she had let down. 

“ You feel better, mademoiselle } ” the woman asked, pres- 
ently. “ That is right, now take a little of this broth. Please 
try, and then I will take off your cloak and frock and you shall 
lie down, and I will cover you up.” 

Mary made an effort to drink the broth, then the servant 
partly undressed her and covered her up warmly with blankets 
drew the curtains across the window and left her with the words. 
“ Sleep well, mademoiselle.” 

But for a time Mary felt utterly unable to sleep. She was 
too worn out for that relief. It had been a terrible time for her. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 187 

For twenty-four hours she had been engaged unceasingly in 
work of the most trying description. The scent of blood still 
seemed to hang about her, and she vaguely wondered whether 
she should ever get rid of it. Then there had been her own 
special anxiety and suspense, and the agony of seeing Cuthbert 
brought in apparently wounded to death. The last blow had 
been dealt by this woman. She said she was his fiancde, but 
although she had it from her lips, Mary could not believe it, 
She might be his mistress but surely not the other. Surely he 
could never make that wild passionate woman his wife. Then 
she felt she was unjust. This poor creature would naturally be 
in a passion of grief and agony, at finding that she could not go 
to the bedside of the man she loved. She should not judge 
her from that. She remembered how different was her expres- 
sion in some of the sketches she had seen in Cuthbert’s book. 

“ At any rate,” she said to herself with a hard sob, “ I have 
no right to complain. He told me he loved me and I was al- 
most indignant at the idea, and told him he was not worthy of 
my love. There was an end of it. He was free to do as he 
liked, and of course put it out of his mind altogether as I did 
out of mine. How could I tell that the time would come when 
I should find out what a terrible mistake I had made, how 
could I dream of such a thing ! How could I guess that he 
would come into my life again and that he would have the 
power to spoil it ! What a fool, I have been. What a con- 
ceited, silly fool,” and so Mary Brander’s thoughts ran on till 
they become more and more vague, and sleep at last arrested 
them altogether. She was awakened by Madame Michaud com- 
ing into the room with a cup of coffee. 

“ Well, my child, have you slept well ? ” 

“ Have I slept, madame ? It cannot have been for more than 
a minute or two.” She looked round in surprise. “ Why, it is 
broad daylight, what time is it ? ” 

“ It is eleven o’clock, my dear. I thought it was time to 
arouse you, and in truth I was getting anxious that you had not 
made your appearance. It is seventeen hours since you lay 
down.” 


i88 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


‘‘ Good gracious ! ” Mary exclaimed. “ And I was due at the 
ambulance at eight. I must have been asleep hours and hours, 
madame. I lay awake for a time — two hours, perhaps, and the 
last thing I thought was that I should never get to sleep, and 
then I have slept all this dreadful time.” 

“ Not a dreadful time at all,” Madame Michaud said with a 
smile. “ You have not slept a minute too long. I feared for 
you when you came in yesterday. I said to my husband in the 
evening, ‘ That angel is killing herself. She could scarce speak 
when she came in, and I cry when I think of her face.’ You 
may thank the good God that you have slept so long and so 
soundly. I can tell you that you look a different being this 
morning.” 

“ I feel different,” Mary said, as she sprang up, “ will you 
ask Margot to bring me my can of water at once.” 

“ Yes, but drink your coffee and eat your bread first. Margot 
said you only took a few spoonsful of broth last night.” 

“ I must have my bath first and then I will promise you I 
will drink the coffee and eat the last crumb of bread. You 
will see I shall be quite blooming by the time I come down.” 

Madame Michaud was obliged to admit that Mary looked 
more herself than she had done for days past when, half an 
hour later, she came downstairs ready to start. 

“ I shall be scolded dreadfully, madame, when I get to the 
ambulance four hours after my time.” 

“You look so much fitter for work, my dear, that if the doc- 
tor has eyes in his head, he will be well content that you have 
taken it out in sleep.” 

Mary walked with a brisk step down to the hospital. 

“ I will think no more of it,” she said resolutely to herself. 
“ I have chosen to be a nurse and I will go through with it. I 
think when I get home after this is over I will become a nurs- 
ing sister — at any rate I may do some good at that ; there is 
plenty of work in the world, even if it is not in the way I thought 
of doing it.” 

But she hesitated when she reached the tents, afraid to go in. 
One of the other nurses came out presently. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


189 


“ Which tent is Dr. Swinburne in ? ” she asked. 

In this,” she said, “ I was just speaking to him.” 

“ Would you mind going in again and asking him to come 
out. I am dreadfully late this morning and I should like to 
see him before I go in.” 

A minute later the surgeon came out. 

“ What is it. Miss Brander ? ” he said, kindly. “ I missed 
you this morning, and hoped you were taking a good sleep.” 

“That was just it. Doctor, and I do feel so ashamed of myself. 
They thought I looked tired, when I came in, and were silly 
enough not to wake me this morning.” 

“ Not silly at all, my dear. They did the very best thing for 
you, for you had gone through a terrible strain here. I am glad, 
indeed, it was sleep and not illness that kept you away. You 
are looking quite a different woman this morning.” 

“ I am so glad that you are not angry. Please tell me how 
the wounded are getting on ? ” 

“ There were ten deaths in the night,” he said, “ but as a 
whole they are going on well. You will be glad to hear that 
the young Englishman who was shot through the body has 
passed a quiet night, and I have now an almost assured hope 
that he will recover. Had there been any vital injury its effects 
would be visible by now. Now run in and take up your work.” 

With a grateful look Mary entered the tent and was soon 
engaged at her work. She was some little time before she 
made her way to the farther end of the tent. Then she went 
quietly up to Cuthbert’s bedside. 

“ I have just had good news of you, Cuthbert. The doctor 
says he has the strongest hopes now of your recovery.” 

“ Yes, he has been telling me that I am doing well,” he said. 
“ Have you only just come ? I have been wondering what had 
had become of you. You looked so pale, yesterday, that I was 
afraid you might be ill.” 

“ I have been sleeping like a top,” she said, “ for I should be 
ashamed to say how many hours. Of course I ought to have 
been here at eight, but they did not wake me, and I feel all the 
better fpr it.” 


190 A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 

“I remember not so long ago,” he said, “that a certain 
young lady declared that it was ridiculous for persons to inter- 
fere in business which did not concern them. Now here you 
are knocking yourself up and going through horrible work for 
people who are nothing to you. That is a little inconsistent.” 

“ I do not argue with people who cannot speak above a 
whisper,” she said. “ Another time I shall be able to prove to 
you that there is nothing inconsistent whatever in it. Well, 
thank God that you are better, Cuthbert. I should not have 
gone away yesterday afternoon if Dr. Swinburne had not assured 
me that there was nothing that I could do for you, and that 
he really thought you might recover. You believe me, don’t 
you?” 

He nodded. 

“ I do believe you, Mary. I did not think myself that I had 
a shadow of a chance, but this morning I began to fancy that 
the doctor may be right, and that I may possibly live to be a 
shining light among artists.” 

“ Did you sleep at all ? ” she asked. 

“Yes, I have been dozing on and off ever since you went 
away. I have drunk a good deal of brandy and water and I 
really think I could take some broth. I told the doctor so this 
morning, but he said I had better wait another twelve hours, 
and then I might have two or three spoonsful of arrowroot, but 
the less the better. I suppose there is no list of killed and 
wounded published yet. I should like to know who had gone. 
They were good fellows, every one of them.” 

“ I don’t know, Cuthbert, but I should hardly think so. I 
think Madame Michaud would have told me had there been a 
list published this morning.” 

Mary now turned to the next bed, but the patient was lying 
with his eyes closed. 

“ I expect he has gone off to sleep,” Cuthbert said, “ he has 
been in a lot of pain all night and half an hour ago they took off 
his bandages and put on fresh ones, and I fancy they must have 
hurt him amazingly. I could tell that by his quick breathing, 
for he did not utter a moan. I am glad that he has gone off 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


191 

to sleep. I heard the doctor tell him that he thought he might 
get the use of his arm again, though it would probably be stiff 
for some time.” 

“You must not talk, indeed you mustn’t,” she said, facing 
round again. “ I am sure the doctor must have told you to keep 
perfectly quiet. If you are quiet and good, I will come to you very 
often, but if not I shall hand you over to the charge of another 
nurse. I blame myself for asking )’^ou any questions. Indeed 
I am quite in earnest ; you are not fit to talk ; the slightest 
movement might possibly set your wound off bleeding ; besides 
you are not strong enough ; it is an effort to you, and the great 
thing is for you to be perfectly quiet and tranquil. Now shut 
your eyes and try to doze off again.” 

She spoke in a tone of nursely authority, and with a faint 
smile he obeyed her orders. She stood for a minute looking at 
him, and as she did so her eyes filled with tears at the change 
that a few days had made, and yet her experience taught her 
that it would be far greater before long. As yet weakness and 
fever, and pain, had scarcely begun their work of hollowing the 
cheeks and reducing him to a shadow of himself. There was 
already scarcely a tinge of color in his face, while there was 
a drawn look round the mouth and a bluish tinge on the lips. 
The eyes seemed deeper in the head and the expression of the 
face greatly changed — indeed, it was rather the lack of any 
expression that characterized it. It might have been a waxen 
mask. 

From time to time she went back to him, and although the 
soft clinging material of her dress and her list slippers rendered 
her movements noiseless, he always seemed conscious of her 
presence, and opened his eyes with a little welcoming smile, as 
she stood beside him, sipped a few drops from the glass she 
held to his lips, and then closed his eyes again without a word. 
After a few hours the period of pain and fever set in, but the 
doctor found no reason for anxiety. 

“ You must expect it, my dear,” he said to Mary one day 
when the fever was at its height. “ A man cannot get through 
such a wound as his without a sharp struggle. Nature cannot 


192 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


be outraged with impunity. It is certain now that there was no 
vital injury, but pain and fever almost necessarily accompany 
the efforts of nature to repair damages. I see no reason for 
uneasiness at present. I should say that he has an excellent 
constitution, and has never played the fool with it. In a few 
days in all probability the fever will abate, and as soon as it 
does so, he will be on the highway to convalescence.” 

During that ten days Mary seldom left the hospital, only 
snatching a few hours, sleep occasionally in a tent which had 
now been erected for the use of the nurses on duty. At the 
end of that time the struggle w'as over and the victory won, and 
Cuthbert lay terribly weak and a mere shadow of himself, but 
free from fever and with perfect consciousness in his eyes. 

“ How long have I been here ? ” he asked Mary. 

“ I think it is a fortnight to-day since you came in, Cuthbert,” 
she answered, quietly. “ Thank God you are quite out of 
danger now, and the doctor says all we have got to do is to 
build you up.” 

“ You have had a hard time of it, child,” he said, ; “ though 
I knew nothing else, I seemed to be conscious that you were 
always near me.” 

“ I have had plenty of sleep, Cuthbert, and am perfectly 
well,” she said, cheerfully. 

“ Then your look belies you,” he said, “ but I know that it is 
no use arguing. What has been happening outside ? ” 

“ Nothing. The troops were withdrawn the day after the fight 
when you were wounded, and nothing has been done since.” 

“ How is Dampierre getting on ? ” he asked. 

“ He is getting on well, I believe,” she replied. “ He was 
delirious and so restless, and talked so loud that the doctor had 
him carried into another ward so that you should not be dis- 
turbed by it. I have not seen him since, but I hear he is going 
on very well. Your friend Rend has been here twice — indeed 
he has been every day to inquire — but he was only let in 
twice. He seems a very kind-hearted fellow and was very cut 
up about you. I am sure he is very fond of you. He says 
that Monsieur Goudd and the other students have all been 


A GIRL OP THE COMMUNE. 


193 

most anxious about you, and that he comes as a sort of deputa- 
tion from them all.” 

Ren^ had, indeed, quite won Mary’s heat by the enthusiastic 
way in which he had spoken of Cuthbert, and had quite looked 
forward to the little chat she had with him every morning when 
he came to the ambulance for news. 

“ He is a grand fellow, mademoiselle,” he would say, with 
tears in his eyes, “we all love him. He has such talents and 
such a great heart. It is not till now that we quite know him. 
When a man is dying men speak of things they would not tell 
otherwise. There are four or five that he has helped, and who 
but for him must have given up their studies. The rest of us 
had no idea of it. But when they knew how bad he was, first 
one broke down and then another, and each told how generously 
he had come to their aid and how delicately he had insisted 
upon helping them, making them promise to say no word of it 
to others. Ma foi, we all cried together. We have lost six of 
our number besides the five here. The rest, except Dampierre, 
are our countrymen, and yet it is of your Englishman that we 
think and talk most.” 

All this was very pleasant to Mary. Cuthbert was now of 
course nothing to her, but it soothed her to hear his praises. 
He had been wicked in one respect, but in all others he seemed 
to have been what she had thought of him when he was a child, 
save that he developed a talent and the power of steady work, 
for which she had never given him credit, for on this head Rend 
was as emphatic as on other points. 

“ He will be a great artist, mademoiselle, if he lives. You 
do not know how much the master thought of him and so did we 
all. He worked harder than any of us, much harder ; but it 
was not that only. He has talent, great talent, while the rest 
of us are but daubers. You will see his pictures hung on the 
line and that before long. We are all burning to see those he 
was painting for the Salon this year. There are only three 
of us painting for that, the master would not let any others think 
of it. Pierre Leroux, is the third and he would have had little 
chance of being hung had not the Englishman gone into his 

13 


194 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


room one day, and taking his brush from his hand transformed 
his picture altogether — transformed it, mademoiselle — and even 
Goud^ says now that it is good and will win a place. But 
Pierre declares that he has not the heart to finish it. If Cuth- 
bert dies he will put it by for another year.” 

Rend was admitted to see Cuthbert the day after the fever 
had left him and sat for an hour by his bedside telling, after 
his first burst of emotion on seeing the change that had taken 
place in him, about the fate of his comrades in the studio. Mary 
did not go near them. There were questions Cuthbert would 
want to ask. Messages that he would want to send that she 
ought not to hear. She had wondered that this woman, who 
had for a time come every day and had as regularly made a 
scene at the entrance to the ambulance, had, since Cuthbert 
was at his worst, ceased coming. 

She had never asked about her, and was ignorant that for 
the last four days she had been allowed to sit for a time by the 
side of a patient in another ward. She thought most likely 
that she was ill and had broken down under the stress of her 
grief and anxiety. She had even in thought pitied her. It 
was she and not herself that ought to be watching Cuthbert’s 
bedside. She might not be good, but she was a woman and 
she loved, and it must be terrible for her to know how ill he was 
and never to be allowed even to see him for a moment. It 
was evident that she had been taken ill, and when on Rend’s 
leaving she went to her patient she expected to find him down- 
cast and anxious. Sad he certainly was, but he did not seem 
to her restless or excited as she had expected. 

“ I have been hearing of the others,” he said. “ Six of them are 
gone, all merry lads, taking life easily, as students do, but with 
plenty of good in them, that would have come to the surface 
later on. It will make a sad gap in our ranks when the rest of 
us come together again. The wounded are all going on well, I 
hear, that of course is a great comfort. I hear the other two com- 
panies suffered much more than we did. The walls we fought 
behind saved us a good deal you see. Rend says the troops 
all went out again three days ago, and that there was a talk of 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


19s 

a great fight, but there has only been some skirmishing and 
they have begun to come back into the town again. Our corps 
did not go out. They think they have done a fair share of the 
work, and I think so too. Ren^ says the old major, who is 
now in command, is so furious at the cowardice shown last 
time by the National Guards and some of the troops that he 
declares he will not take out his brave lads to throw away their 
lives when the Parisians will not venture within musket-shot of 
the enemy. 

“ I think he is quite right. I hope there will be no more 
sorties, for I am sure it would be useless. If you had seen, as 
I did, seven or eight thousand men running like a flock of 
frightened sheep, you would agree with me that it would be 
hopeless to think of breaking through the Germans with such 
troops as this. One victory would make all the difference in 
the world to their morale, but they will never win that one 
victory, and it will take years before the French soldier regains 
his old confidence in himself. Have you taken to rats yet, 
Mary ? ” he asked, with a flash of his old manner. 

“ No, sir, and do not mean to. We are still going on very 
fairly. The meat rations are very small, but we boil them down 
into broth, and as we have plenty of bread to sop into it we do 
very w^ell ; our store of eggs have held on until now. We have 
been having them beaten up in our morning coffee instead of 
milk, but they are just gone, and Madame Michaud says that we 
must now begin upon the preserved meat. We are a long way 
from rats yet, though I believe they are really hunted and eaten 
in great numbers in the poorer quarters.” 

“ And there is no talk of surrender ? ” 

“ No talk at all ; they say we can hold on for another month 
yet.” 

“ What is the news from the provinces ? ” 

“ Everywhere bad. Bourbaki has been obliged to take 
refuge in Switzerland and his force has been disarmed there. 
Chanzy has been beaten badly near New Orleans, and the 
Prussians have probably by this time entered Tours. Faidherbe 
has gained some successes in the north, but as the Germans 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


196 

are pushing forward there, as well as everywhere else, that does 
not make very much difference to us.” 

“ Then what on earth’s the use of holding out any longer,” he 
said. “ It is sheer stupidity. I suppose the Parisians think 
that, as they can’t fight, they will at least show that they can 
starve. What is the weather like ? I felt very cold last night 
though I had plenty of blankets on.” 

“ It is terribly cold,” she said. “ The snow is deep on the 
ground — it is one of the coldest winters that has been for 
years.” 

“ What is the day of the month ? ” 

“ The 26th.” 

“ Then yesterday was Christmas Day.” 

“ Yes,” she said, “ not a merry Christmas this year to any of 
us — no roast beef, no plum-pudding, no mince-pies — and yet, 
Cuthbert, I had every reason to be thankful, for what a much 
more unhappy Christmas it might have been to me.” 

He nodded. 

“ I know what you mean. Yes, you would have missed me, 
child, cut off as we are from the world here. I am, as it were, 
the sole representative of your family. Of course, you have not 
heard from them.” 

She shook her head. 

“ I don’t suppose they trouble much about me,” she said, a little 
bitterly, “ I am a sort of disappointment, you know. Of course 
I have been away now for nearly two years, except for the fort- 
night I was over there, and even before that I scarcely seemed 
to belong to them. I did not care for the things that they 
thought a great deal of, and they had no interest in the things I 
cared for. Somehow I don’t think I have got on well with them 
ever since I went up to Girton. I see now it was entirely my 
own fault. It does not do for a girl to have tastes differing from 
those of her family.” 

“ I felt that, Mary. I felt it very much. I have told my- 
self ever since the day of dear old father’s death that I have 
been a brute, and I wish with all my heart I had put aside my 
own whims and gone in for a country life. It is all very well 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


197 


to say I did not like it, but I ought to have made myself like it ; 
or if I could not do that, I ought to have made a pretence of 
liking it, and to have stuck to him as long as I lived. I hadn’t 
even the excuse of having any high purpose before me.” 

“ We all make mistakes in our lives, Cutbert,” the girl said, 
quietly, “ and it is of no use bemoaning them — at any rate you 
have done your best to retrieve yours, and I mean to do my 
best to retrieve mine. I have quite made up my mind that 
when this is over I shall go to London and be regularly trained 
as a hospital nurse, and then join a nursing sisterhood.” 

“ What ! and give up woman in general ? ” Cuthbert said, 
with a faint laugh. “ Will you abandon your down-trodden 
sisters } Impossible, Mary.” 

“ It is quite possible,” she said, in a business-like manner. 

“ Become a back-slider ! Mary, you absolutely shock me. 
At present you have got nursing on the brain. I should have 
thought that this ambulance work would have been enough for 
a life-time. At any rate I should advise you to think it over 
very seriously before you commit yourself too deeply to this 
new fad. Nursing is one of the greatest gifts of women, but 
after all woman wasn’t made only to nurse, any more than she 
was to devote her life to championing her sex.” 

Mary did not reply but silently moved off with an air of deeply- 
offended dignity. 

“ What an enthusiastic little woman she is,” Cuthbert laughed 
quietly to himself ; “ anyhow she is a splendid nurse, and I 
would infinitely rather see her so, than as a female spouter on 
platforms. I fancied the siege might have had some effect on 
her. She has seen something of the realities of life and was 
likely to give up theorizing. She looks older and more womanly, 
softer a good deal than she was. I think I can improve that 
picture now. I had never seen her look soft before, and had 
to trust to my imagination. I am sure I can improve it 
now.” 

Another fortnight and Cuthbert was out of bed and able to 
walk about in the ward and to render little services to other 
patients. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


198 

“ Do you know, Mary,” he said, one day, when she happened 
to be idle and was standing talking to him as he sat on the edge 
of his bed, “ a curious thing happened to me the very day be- 
fore we went out on that sortie. I saw that fellow. Gumming, 
the rascal that ruined the bank, and then bolted, you know. 
For a moment I did not recall his face, but it struck me directly 
afterwards. I saw him go into a house. He has grown a beard, 
and he is evidently living as a quiet and respected British 
resident. It was a capital idea of his, for he is as safe here as 
he would be if he were up in a balloon. I intended to look him 
up when I got back again into Paris, but you see circumstances 
prevented my doing so.” 

“ Of course you will get him arrested as soon as the siege is 
over, Cuthbert. I am very glad that he is found.” 

“ Well, I don’t know that I had quite made up my mind 
about that. I don’t suppose that he made off with any great 
sum. You see the companies he bolstered up with the bank’s 
money, all smashed at the same time. I don’t suppose that he 
intended to rob the bank at the time he helped them. Prob- 
ably he had sunk all his savings in them, and thought they 
would pull round with the aid of additional capital. As far as 
I could make out, from the report of the men who went into 
the matter, he did not seem to have drawn any money at all on 
his own account, until the very day he bolted, when he took 
the eight or ten thousand pounds there was in the safe. No. I 
don’t think I meant to hand him over or indeed to say anything 
about it. I thought I would give him a good fright, which he 
richly deserves, and then ask him a few questions. I have 
never quite understood how it was that dear old dad came tc 
buy those shares. I did inquire so far as to find out it was 
Gumming himself who transferred them to him, and I should 
really like to hear what was said at the time. If the man can 
prove to me that when he sold them he did not know that the 
bank was going to break, I should have no ill-will against him, 
but if I were sure he persuaded him to buy, knowing that ruin 
would follow, I would hunt him down and spare no pains to get 
him punished.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


199 

‘‘ Why should he have persuaded your father to buy those 
shares ? ” 

“ That’s just what I cannot make out. He could have had 
no interest in involving him in the smash. Besides they were 
not on intimate terms in any way. I cannot imagine that my 
father would have gone to him for advice in reference to busi- 
ness investments. It was, of course, to your father he would 
have turned in such matters.” 

“ How long had he been a shareholder ? ” 

‘‘ He bought the shares only two months before his death, 
which makes the matter all the more singular.” 

“What did father say,-Cuthbert ? ” the girl said, after a short 
pause. “ I suppose you spoke to him about it” 

“ He said that my father had heard some rumors to the effect 
that the bank was not in a good state, and having no belief 
whatever in them, he bought the shares, thinking that his do- 
ing so would have a good effect upon its credit, in which as a 
sort of county institution, he felt an interest.” 

“ But did not father, who was solicitor to the bank, and must 
have known something of its affairs, warn him of the danger 
that he was running ? ” 

“ That is what I asked him myself, but he said that he only 
attended to its legal business, and outside that knew nothing of 
its affairs.” 

“ It seems a curious affair altogether,” Mary said, gravely. 
“But it is time for me to be at work again.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

While in the ambulance, Mary Brander resolutely put her 
conversation with Cuthbert aside, but as soon as she started 
for her walk home, it became uppermost in her thoughts. It 
was certainly a curious affair. From time to time friends at 
home with whom she corresponded, sent her local nev/spapers, 
and this had especially been the case during the first few 


200 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


months of her stay in Germany, as they naturally supposed she 
would be greatly interested in the calamity of the bank failure. 

She had, at the time it was issued, read the full report of the 
committee of investigation upon its affairs, and, although she 
had passed lightly over the accounts, she had noticed that the 
proceeds of the sale of the Fairclose estates were put down as 
subject to a deduction of fifteen thousand pounds for a previous 
mortgage to Jeremiah Brander, Esq. The matter had made no 
impression upon her mind at this time, but it now came back 
to her remembrance. 

Of course it was perfectly natural that if Mr. Hartington 
w'ished to borrow money it was to her father, as his solicitor 
and friend, that he would have gone. There could be nothing 
unusual in that, but what Cuthbert had told her about Mr. 
Hartington buying the shares but two months before his death 
was certainly singular. Surely her father could have pre- 
vented his taking so disastrous a step. Few men are regarded 
by members of their family in exactly the same light as they are 
considered by the public, and Jeremiah Brander was certainly 
no exception. While the suavest of men in the eyes of his fel- 
low-townsmen, his family were well aware that he possessed 
a temper. When the girls were young his conversation was 
always guarded in their hearing, but as they grew up he no 
longer felt the same necessity for prudence of speech, and fre- 
quently indulged in criticisms of the colleagues, for whom he 
professed the most unbounded respect and admiration in public. 

Mary had often felt something like remorse at the thought 
that the first time she read Martin Chuzzlewit, many touches 
in the delineation of Mr. Pecksniff’s character had reminded 
her of her father. She believed him to be a just and upright 
man, but she could not help admitting to herself that he was 
not by a long way the man the public believed him to be. It 
was a subject on which she rarely permitted herself to think. 
They had never got on very well together, and she acknowl- 
edged to herself that this was as much her fault as his. It was 
not so much the fact that she had a strong will and was bent on 
going her own way, regardless of the opinion of others, that had 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


201 


been the cause of the gulf which had grown up between them, 
as the dissimilarity of their character, the absolute difference 
between the view which she held of things in general, to that 
which the rest of her family entertained regarding them, and 
the outspoken frankness with which she was in the habit of 
expressing her contempt for things they praised highly. 

Thinking over this matter of Mr. Hartington’s purchase of 
the bank shares, she found herself wondering what motive her 
father could have had in permitting him to buy them, for know- 
ing how the Squire relied upon his opinion in all business mat- 
ters, she could not doubt that the latter could have prevented 
this disastrous transaction. That he must have had some mo- 
tive she felt sure, for her experience of him was amply sufficient 
for her to be well aware that he never acted without a motive 
of some sort. So far as she could see, no motive was apparent, 
but this in no way altered her opinion. 

“ Cuthbert thinks it a curious affair, and no wonder,” she 
said to herself. “ I don’t suppose he has a suspicion that any_ 
thing has been wrong, and I don’t suppose there has ; but there 
may have been what they call sharp practice. I don’t think 
Cuthbert likes my father, but he is the very last man to suspect 
anyone. It was horrid, before, being at Fairclose — it will be ten 
times as bad now. The whole thing is disgusting. It is wicked 
of me to think that my father could possibly do anything that 
wasn’t quite honorable and right — especially when there is not 
the slightest reason for suspecting him. It is only, I suppose, 
because I know he isn’t exactly what other people think him to 
be, that makes me uneasy about it. I know well enough that I 
should never have gone away from home as I did, if it had not 
been that I hated so to hear him running down people with 
whom he seemed to be so friendly, and making fun of all the 
things in which he seemed so interested. It used to make me 
quite hateful, and he was just as glad, when I said I should 
like to go to Girton, to get rid of me as I was to go. 

“ It is all very well to say, honor your father and mother, but 
if you can’t honor them what are you to do ? I have no doubt 
I am worrying myself for nothing now, but I can’t help it. It 


202 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


is dreadful to feel like that towards one’s father, but I felt quite 
a chill run through me when Cuthbert said he should go and 
see that man Gumming and try to get to the bottom of things. 
One thing is certain, I will never live at Fairclose — never. If 
he leaves it between us, Julia and Clara may live there if they 
like, and let me have so much a year and go my own way. But 
I will never put foot in it after father and mother are gone. It is 
all very miserable, and I do think I am getting to be a most hate- 
ful girl. Here am I suspecting my own father of having done 
something wrong, although of what I have not the least idea, 
and that without a shadow of reason, then I am almost hating 
a woman because a man I refused loves her. I have become 
discouraged and have thrown up all the plans I had laid down 
for myself, because it does not seem as easy as I thought it 
would be. No, that is not quite true. It is much more because 
Cuthbert has laughed me out of them. Anyhow I should be a 
nice woman to teach other women what they should do, when I 
am as weak as the weakest of them. I don’t think there ever 
was a more objectionable sort of girl in the world than I have 
become.” 

By the time that she had arrived at this conclusion she had 
nearly reached home. A sudden feeling that she could not in 
her present mood submit to be petted and fussed over by Ma- 
dame Michaud struck her, and turning abruptly she walked 
with brisk steps to the Arc de Triomphe and then down the 
Champs Elyse'es and along the Rue Rivoli, and then round the 
Boulevards, returning home fagged out, but the better for her 
exertion. One thing she determined during her walk, she 
would give up her work at the ambulance. 

“ There are plenty of nurses,” she said, “ and one more or 
less will make no difference. I am miserably weak, but at any 
rate I have sense enough to know that it will be better for me 
not to be going there every day, now that he is out of danger. 
He belongs to someone else, and I would rather die than that 
he should ever dream what a fool I am ; and now I know it 
myself it will be harder and harder as he gets better to be talk- 
ing to him indifferently.” Accordingly the next morning, when 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


203 

she went down, she told Dr. Swinburne that she felt that she 
must, at any rate for a time, give up nursing. 

“ You are quite right. Miss Brander,” he said, kindly, “ you 
have taxed your strength too much already, “ and are looking 
a mere shadow of what you were two months ago. You are 
quite right to take a rest. I have plenty of assistance, and there 
is not likely to be such a strain again as that we have lately 
gone through. Paris cannot hold out many weeks longer, and 
after the two failures I feel sure that there will be no more 
attempts at a sortie, especially as all hopes that an army may 
come to our relief are now at an end.” 

She found it more difficult to tell Cuthbert, but it was not 
necessary for her to begin the subject, for he noticed at once 
that she had not the usual nursing-dress on. 

“ You are going to take a holiday to-day, I suppose ? ” he 
said, as she came up to his bedside. 

“ I am going to take a holiday for some little time,” she said, 
quietly. “ They can do very well without me now. Almost all 
the patients in this ward are convalescent, and I really feel that 
I need a rest.” 

“ I am sure you do,” he said, earnestly, “ it has been an 
awful time for you to go through, and you have behaved like a 
heroine. A good many of us owe our lives to you, but the work 
has told on you sadly. I don’t suppose you know yourself how 
much. We shall all miss you at this end of the ward — miss 
you greatly, but I am sure there is not one who will not feel as 
I do, glad to know that you are taking a rest after all your work. 
Of course you will look in sometimes to see how your patients 
are progressing. As for myself I hope I shall be able to come 
up to see you at the Michauds in another ten days or so. Now 
that the doctor has taken to feeding me up I can feel that I am 
gaining strength every day. ” 

“You must not hurry, Cuthbert,” she said, gravely. “You 
must keep quiet and patient.” 

“ You are not in your nursing-dress now, Miss Brander^ and 
I decline altogether to be lectured by you. I have been very 
good and obedient up to now, but I only bow to lawfully con- 


204 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


stituted authority, and now I come under the head of convales- 
cent I intend to emancipate myself.” 

“ I shall not come down here to see you unless I hear good 
accounts of your conduct,” she said, with an attempt to speak 
playfully. “Well, good-bye, Cuthbert. I hope you will not 
try to do too much.” 

“ Good-bye, dear, thanks for all your goodness to me,” he 
said, earnestly, as he held her hand for a moment in his. 

“ He had no right to call me dear,” Mary thought, almost 
indignantly, as he left the hospital, “ and he does not guess I 
know why she is longing to be out again. I almost wonder he 
has never spoken to me about her. He would know very well 
that I should be interested in anything that concerns him, and 
I think he might have told me. I suppose he will bring her up 
some day and introduce her as his wife. Anyhow I am glad 
I know about it, and shall be able to take it as a matter of 
course.” 

Mary did not pay another visit to the ambulance. Now that 
she had given up her work she felt the reaction, and although 
she refused to take to her bed she passed her time sitting list- 
less and weak in an easy-chair, paying but slight attention to 
Madame Michaud’s talk, and often passing the greater part of 
the day in her own room. 

Madame Michaud felt so uneasy about her that she went 
down to the ambulance and brought up Dr. Swinburne, who 
scolded Mary for not having sent for him before. He pre- 
scribed tonics,, sent her up a dozen of wine from the hospital, 
ordered her to wrap herself up and sit at an open window for a 
time each day, and to make an effort to take a turn round the 
garden as soon as she felt strong enough to do so. 

On his return to the ambulance the surgeon said carelessly 
to Cuthbert, who had now gained sufficient strength to be of 
considerable use as an assistant in the ward — 

“ I have been up to see your late nurse. Miss Brander. There 
is nothing serious the matter with her, but, as I thought likely 
would be the case, she has collapsed now that her work is over, 
and will need a good deal of care and attention to build her up 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


205 


again. You will be out in a few days now and I am sure it 
will do her good if you will go up and have a chat with her 
and cheer her up a bit. She is not in bed. My visit did her 
good ; but she wants rousing, and remember if you can get her 
to laugh, and joke her about her laziness, it will do more good 
than by expressing your pity for her.” 

“ I think I am well enough to be discharged now, Doctor,* 
Cuthbert said, eagerly. 

“ Yes, but you will have to be very careful for some time. 
You will want generous food, and I don’t see how you are to 
get it outside.’* 

“ I suppose the restaurants are still open ? ** 

“ The common ones are closed, but you can still get a dinner 
at some of the best places, although you will have to pay very 
heavily for it.” 

“ I don’t mind that. Doctor ; and besides I am very anxious 
to be at work again. It will be no more tiring standing at an 
easel than it is doing what I can to help here.” 

“ That is true enough, providing you do not do too much of 
it. Up to a certain extent it will be a good thing for you, but 
mind, I distinctly forbid you to attempt any such folly as to try 
to walk from the Quartier Latin up to Passy. Let me see,” he 
added, thoughtfully. “Yes, I think it can be managed. I 
will send you home by the ambulance that will be here to- 
morrow morning at eight o’clock. You are to keep yourself 
quiet all day, and I will get Madame de Millefleurs to send 
her carriage round for you at eleven o’clock next day, to take 
you round by Passy. She has told me many times that it is 
always at the disposal of any of my patients to whom it would 
be useful. I will see her some time to-morrow and arrange 
about it.” 

“ Thank you, indeed. Doctor. I need not say how grateful I 
am to you for all the kindness I have received here.” 

“ We have done the best we could for you,” the doctor said, 
“ and I am sure there is not one of those who have provided 
funds for this ambulance but feels well rewarded by the knowl- 
edge that it has been the means of saving many lives, I think 


2o6 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


we may say that we have not lost one whom it was humanly 
possible to save, while in the French hospitals they have lost 
hundreds from over-crowding, want of ventilation, and proper 
sanitary arrangements. The mortality there has been fearful, 
and the percentage of deaths after amputations positively 
disgraceful.” 

Rene came late that afternoon to pay a visit to Cuthbert, and 
was delighted to find that he was to be out next morning. 

“ I have kept your rooms in order,” he said, “ and will have 
a big fire lighted in them before you arrive. They will give 
you breakfast before you leave, I hope.” 

“ They will do that, Rene, but I shall manage very well if 
there is still anything left of that store of mine in the big cup- 
board.” 

“ You may be sure that there is,” Rene replied. “ F am 
always most particular in locking up the doors when I come 
away, and I have not used the key you gave me of the cupboard. 
J was positively afraid to. I am virtuous, I hope, but there are 
limits to one’s power to resist temptation. I know you told me 
to take anything I liked but if I had once began I could never 
have stopped.” 

“ Then we will have a feast to-morrow, Rene. Ask all the 
others in to supper, but you must act as cook. Tell them not to 
come to see me till eight o’clock. If they kept dropping in all 
day it would be too much for me. I wish Dampierre could be 
with us, but he has not got on so fast as I have. His wounds 
were never so serious, but the doctor said the bones were badly 
smashed and take longer to heal. He says he is not a good 
patient either, but worries and fidgets. I don’t think those 
visits of Minette were good for him, the doctor had to put a 
stop to them. He would talk and excite himself so. How- 
ever, I hear that he is likely to be out in another fortnight.” 

“ By that time it will be all over,” Rend said, “ negotiations 
are going on now, and they say that in three or four days we 
shall surrender.” 

“ The best thing to do, Rene. Ever since that last sortie 
failed all hope has been at an end, and there has been no point 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 20 ^ 

in going on suffering, for I suppose by this time the suffering 
has been very severe.” 

“ Not so very severe, Cuthbert. Of course, we have been 
out of meat for a long time, for the ration is, so small it is 
scarcely worth calling meat, but the flour held out well and so did 
the wine and most other things. A few hundred have been 
killed by the Prussian shells, but wdth that exception the mor- 
tality has not been very greatly above the average, except that 
smallpox has been raging and has carried off a large number 
Among young children, too, the mortality has been heavy, 
owing to the want of milk and things of that sort. I should 
doubt if there has been a single death from absolute starva- 
tion.” 

To M. Goude’s students that supper at Cuthbert Hartington’s 
was a memorable event. The master himself was there. Two 
large hams, and dishes prepared from preserved meats were on 
the table, together with an abundance of good wine. It was the 
first reunion they had had since the one before the sortie, and 
it was only the gaps among their number, and the fact that their 
host and several of their comrades were still weak, and greatly 
changed in appearance, that restrained their spirits from break- 
ing into hilarity. 

The next morning Madame de Millefleurs’ carriage came to 
the door and Cuthbert was driven to the Michauds. For a 
moment Margot failed to recognize Cuthbert as she opened 
the door. As she did so she exclaimed — 

“ Mon Dieu, Monsieur Hartington, you look like a ghost.” 

“ I am very far from being a ghost, Margot, though there is 
not much flesh on my bones. How is Mademoiselle Brander ? 
I hear she has not been well.” 

“ She is as pale as you are, monsieur, but not so thin. She 
does nothing but sit quiet all day with her eyes wide open — 
she who was always so bright and active and had a smile for 
every one. I go out and cry often after going into her room. 
She has just gone into the parlor. You will find her alone 
there,” she added, for Margot had always had her ideas as to the 
cause of Cuthbert’s visits. 


2o8 a girl of the commune, 

Mary was sitting at the open window and did not look round 
as Cuthbert entered. 

“ Well, Mary, is it actually you, doing nothing ? ” he said, 
cheerily. 

She turned round with a start, and a flush of color swept 
across her face. 

“ How you startled me,” she said. “ I am glad indeed to see 
you. I did not think you would be out so soon. Surely it is 
very foolish of you coming so far.” 

“ Still thinking you are a nurse, Mary,” he laughed. “I can 
assure you I am very prudent, and I have been brought up here 
in a carriage — a carriage with live horses. Dr. Swinburne told 
me you had not got over the effects of your hard work, and that 
he had had to order you to take tonics, so you see instead of 
being a nurse you are a patient at present, while I am a free 
man. I came out of hospital yesterday niorning, and we had a 
grand supper last night out of my hoards, which I found just as 
I had left them, which says wonders for the honesty of the 
Parisians in general, and for the self-denial of my friend Rend 
Caillard in particular.” 

“ Why, I should have thought ” and she stopped, abruptly. 

“ What would you have thought. Miss Brander ? ” 

“ Oh, nothing.” 

“ No, no, I cannot be put off in that way. You were going 
to say that you thought I should have distributed my stores long 
ago, or that I ought to have sent for them for the use of the 
hospital. I really ought to have done so. It would have been 
only fair, but in fact the idea never occurred to me. Rend had 
the keys of my rooms and I told him to use the stores as he 
liked, meaning for himself and for our comrades of the studio.” 

“ I should have thought,” she began again, and then, as be- 
fore, hesitated, and then asked, abruptly, “ Have you not some- 
thing to tell me, Cuthbert — something that an old friend would 
tell to another ? I have been expecting you to tell me all the 
time you were in the hospital, and have felt hurt you did not.” 

Cuthbert looked at her in surprise. There was a slight flush 
on her cheek and it was evident that she was deeply in earnest. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


209 

“ Tell you something, Mary,” he repeated. “ I really don’t 
know what you mean — no, honestly, I have not a notion.” 

“ I don’t wish to pry into your secrets,” she said, coldly. “ I 
learned them accidentally, but as you don’t wish to take me into 
your confidence we will say no more about it.” 

“ But we must say more about it,” he replied. “ I re- 
peat I have no idea of what you are talking about. I have 
no secret whatever on my mind. By your manner it must be 
something serious, and I think I have a right to know what 
it is.” 

She was silent for a moment and then said — 

“ If you wish it I can have no possible objection to tell you. 
I will finish the question I began twice. I should have thought 
that you would have wished that your stores should be sent to 
the lady you are engaged to.” 

Cuthbert looked at her in silent surprise. 

“ My dear Mary,” he said, gravely, at last, “ either you are 
dreaming or I am. I understood that your reply to my question, 
the year before last, was as definite and as absolute a refusal as 
a man could receive. Certainly I have not from that moment 
had any reason to entertain a moment’s doubt that you yourself 
intended it as a rejection.” 

“ What are you talking about .? ” she asked, rising to her feet 
with an energy of which a few minutes before she would have 
deemed herself altogether incapable. “ Are you pretending that 
I am alluding to myself, are you insulting me by suggesting that 
I mean that I am engaged to you } ” 

“ All I say is, Mary, that if you do not mean that, I have not 
the most remote idea in the world what you do mean.” 

“ You say that because you think it is impossible I should 
knov>r,” Mary retorted, indignantly, “ but you are mistaken. I 
have had it from her own lips.” 

“ That she was engaged to me ? ” 

“ She came to the hospital to see you the night you were 
brought in, and she claimed admittance on the ground that she 
was affianced to you.” 

Cuthbert’s surprise changed to alarm as it flashed across him 

14 


21b 


A GIRL OF THE COMMVNE, 


that the heavy work and strain had been too much for the girl, 
and that her brain had given way. 

“ I think that there must be some mistake, Mary,” he said, 
soothingly. 

“ There is no mistake,” she went on, still more indignantly ; 
“ she came with your friend, Rene, and I knew her before she 
spoke, for I had seen her face in a score of places in your sketch- 
book, and you told me she was a model in your studio. It is no 
business of mine, Mr. Hartington, whom you are going to marry. 
I can understand, perhaps, your wish that the matter should 
remain for a time a secret, but I did not think when I told you 
that I knew it, you would have kept up the affectation of igno- 
rance. I have always regarded you as being truthful and honor- 
able beyond all things, and I am bitterly disappointed. I was 
hurt that you should not have given your confidence to me, but I 
did think when I told you that I knew your secret you would 
have manfully owned it, and not descended to a pretence of 
ignorance.” 

For a moment Cuthbert’s face had expressed bewilderment, 
but as she went on speaking, a smile stole across his face. 
Mary noticed it and her voice and manner changed. 

“ I think, Mr. Hartington,” she said, with great dignity, “ you 
must see that it will be pleasanter for us both that this interview 
shall terminate.” 

He rose from his seat, took his hat off the table, and said, 
quietly — 

“ I have but one observation to make before I go. You have 
discovered. Miss Brander, that you made one mistake in your 
life. Has it never struck you that you might also have made 
a mistake this time ? I think that our very long acquaintance 
might have induced you to hesitate a little before you assumed 
it as a certainty that your old acquaintance was acting in this 
way, and that for the sake of old times you might have given 
him the benefit of the doubt.” 

The strength that Mary’s indignation had given her, deserted 
her suddenly. Her fingers tightened on the back of the chair 
by her side for support. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


2II 


“ How could there be any mistake,’^ she asked, weakly, her 
vigorous attack now turned into a defence, more by his manner 
than his words, “ when I heard her say so ? ” 

“ Sit down, child,” he said, in his old authoritative manner. 
“ You are not fit to stand.” 

She felt it would be a step towards defeat if she did so, but 
he brought up the chair in which she had before been sitting 
and placed it behind her, and quietly assisted her into it. 

“ Now,” he went on, “you say you heard it from her lips. 
What did she say ? ” 

“ She said she insisted on going in to see you, and that as 
your affianced wife she had a right to do so.” 

“ She said that, did she ? That she was the affianced wife of 
Cuthbert Hartington ? ” 

Mary thought for a moment. 

“ No, she did not use those words, at least, not that I can 
remember ; but it was not necessary, I knew who she was. I 
have seen the sketches in your book, and there were several of 
them on the walls of your room. Of course I knew who she 
was speaking of, though she did not, so far as I can remember, 
use your name.” 

“ Did it never occur to you. Miss Brander, that it was a nat- 
ural thing one should have many sketches of the girl who always 
stood as a model in the studio, and that every student there 
would have his sketch-book full of them ? Did you not know 
that there were three or four other wounded men of the same 
corps as myself in the hospital ; that one at least was a 
fellow-student of mine, and also a foreigner, and that this young 
woman was just as likely to be asking to see him as to see me ? ” 

An awful feeling of doubt and shame came with overpowering 
force over Mary Brander. 

“ No,” she said, desperately, “ I never thought of such a 
thing. Naturally I thought it was you, and there was no reason 
why it shouldn’t be. You were perfectly free to please yourself, 
only I felt hurt that when you got better you did not tell me.” 

Her voice was so weak that Cuthbert poured some water into 
a glass and held it to her lips. 


212 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


“ Now, child,” he went on in a lighter voice, “ I am not going 
to scold you — you are too weak to be scolded. Some day I may 
scold you as you deserve. Not only is Minette — I told you her 
name before — nothing to me, but I dislike her as a passionate, 
dangerous young woman ; capable, perhaps, of good, but cer- 
tainly capable of evil. However, I regret to say that Arnold 
Dampierre, the man who was in the next bed to me, you know, 
does not see her in the same light, and I am very much afraid 
he will be fool enough to marry her. Actually, she did a few 
days later obtain permission to see him, and has, I believe, seen 
him several times since ; but as he was moved out of your ward 
whilst I was battling with the fever, I have not seen her. Now 
don’t cry, child, you have been a goose, but there is no harm 
done, and you ought to be glad to know that your old friend is 
not going to make a fool of himself ; and he can still be regarded 
by you as truthful and honorable. Do you think I would have 
taken you round to my rooms if I had been going to make her 
their mistress ? ” 

“ Don’t, don’t ! ” the girl cried. “ Don’t say anything more, 
Cuthbert. I cannot bear it.” 

“ I am not going to say any more. Madame de Millefleurs’ 
horses must by this time be half-frozen, and her coachman be 
out of all patience, and I must be going. I shall come again as 
soon as I can, and I shall be very angry if I don’t find you look- 
ing much more like yourself when I next come.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

The belief that in a few hours the siege would come to an 
end was so general the next morning, that Cuthbert determined 
to lose no time in seeing Cumming. As soon as the way was 
open the man might take the opportunity to move off to some 
other hiding-place ; and, therefore, instead of bringing out his 
canvases, as he had intended, Cuthbert decided to call on him 
at once. Having chartered one of the few remaining fiacres, 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


213 

at an exorbitant rate, he drove to the house where he had seen 
Gumming enter, and went into the concierge. 

“ I want some information, my friend,” he said, laying a five- 
franc piece on the table. “ You have a foreigner lodging here ? ” 

The man nodded. 

“ Monsieur Jackson is a good tenant,” he said. “ He pays 
well for any little services.” 

“ How long has he been here } ” 

“ He came just after war was declared.” 

“ Has he taken his apartments for a long period ? ” 

“ He has taken them for a year, monsieur. I think he will 
take them permanently. I hope so, for he gives no trouble, 
and has never been out late once since he came here.” 

“ I want to see him,” Cuthbert said, “ I believe he is an old 
acquaintance of mine.” 

“ If you ring his bell he will open himself. He keeps an 
old woman as servant, but she has just gone out to do his shop- 
ing. He always take his meals at home. He is on the second 
floor — the door to the left.” 

Cuthbert went up and rang the bell. Gumming himself 
opened the door. He looked at his visitor inquiringly. 

“You do not remember me, Mr. Gumming?” Cuthbert said, 
cheerfully. “ I am not surprised, for I have but just recovered 
from a very serious wound. I will come in and sit down, if you 
don’t mind ; I want to have a chat with you. My name is Cuth- 
bert Hartington ! ” 

The man had given a violent start when his name was men- 
tioned, and his face turned to an ashy pallor. He hesitated for 
a moment, and then, as Cuthbert entered, he closed the door 
behind him, and silently led the way into the sitting-room. 

“ I happened to see you in the street,” Cuthbert went on, 
pleasantly, as he seated himself. “ Of course, your beard has 
altered you a bit, and I could not at first recall your face, but it 
soon came back to me. It was a happy idea of yours shutting 
yourself up here when there was no chance of an extradition 
warrant being applied for. However, to-morrow or next day 
that little difficulty will be at an end. I thought I would come 


214 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


and have a conversation with you, and naturally the course that 
I shall take will depend a good deal on the results. I may men- 
tion,” he went on, taking a revolver from his pocket and lay- 
ing it on the table before him, “ that I thought it as well to 
bring this with me, for just at present I don’t feel quite up to a 
personal tussle.” 

“ What do you want to talk about ? ” the man asked, doggedly. 
“ I may tell you at once that I placed what little money I got 
where it will never be found, and beyond sending me up for 
some years, there will be nothing to be gained by denouncing 
me.” 

“ There might be some satisfaction though in seeing a man 
who has ruined you punished — at least there would be to some 
men. I don’t know that there would be to me. It would de- 
pend upon circumstances. I am ready to believe that in those 
transactions of yours that brought the bank to ruin, you hon- 
estly believed that the companies you assisted would turn out 
well, and that things would come out right in the end. I do 
not suppose you were such a fool as to run the risk of ruin and 
penal servitude when you had a snug place, unless you had 
thought so ; and, indeed, as the directors were as responsible 
as yourself for making those advances — although they were, of 
course, ignorant of the fact that you held a considerable interest 
in those companies — there was nothing actually criminal in those 
transactions. Therefore, it is only for that matter of your mak- 
ing off with the contents of the safe that you can be actually 
prosecuted. At any rate, I have no present intention of inter- 
fering in the affair, and you can remain here as Mr. Jackson up 
to the end of your life for what I care, if you will give me the 
information that I desire.” 

The look on the man’s face relaxed. 

“ I will give you any information you desire, I have nothing 
to conceal. Of course, they can obtain a conviction against me 
for taking the money, but I should save them trouble by plead- 
ing guilty at once. Therefore, I don’t see that I could harm 
myself in any way by answering any questions they may choose 
to ask me.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


215 


“ I want to get to the bottom of what has all along been a 
mystery to me, and that is how my father came to take those 
shares, just at the moment when the bank was so shaky.” 

“ That is more than I can tell you, Mr. Hartington. It has 
been a puzzle to myself.” 

“ But they were your shares that were transferred to him.” 

“ That is so, and the money came in useful enough, for I 
knew that the smash must take place soon, and that possibly 
I might not be able to lay my hands on much ready cash. 
However, I will tell you exactly how it came about. Brander, 
the lawyer came to me and said his client, Mr. Hartington, 
wanted fifty shares. I own I was astounded, for Brander knew 
perfectly well that things were in a very bad way. By the way 
he spoke I saw there was something curious about the affair, 
but as he put the screw on, and as much as hinted that if I did 
not follow his instructions he would blow the whole thing into 
the air, I made no objections, especially as he proposed that 
I should transfer some of my own shares. The transfer was 
drawn up in regular form. He brought it to me duly signed by 
your father. 

“ I noticed that his own clerks witnessed the signature, so I 
supposed it was done in the office. He made a point that I 
should get the transfer passed with some others without the at- 
tention of the directors being called to the matter. I got the 
transfer signed and sealed by two of the directors while there 
was a talk going on about other things, and they signed with- 
out looking at names. So far as I am concerned that was the 
beginning and ending of the matter. Oh, there was another 
point, the transfer was ante-dated three weeks. Of course, it 
might have been lying in Brander’s office all the time. It was 
dated on the day after the previous board meeting, so that in 
the ordinary course it would not be passed until the next meet- 
ing, and it might very well have remained in Brander’s hands 
until he knew that the directors were going to meet again. I 
have often wondered what Brander’s game was, and of course I 
thought all the more of it when I saw that he had bought Fair- 
close. He was a crafty old fox, Brander, but I have never 


2i6 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


been able to understand why he permitted your father to ruin 
himself.” 

Cuthbert remained silent for some time. 

“Your explanation only thickens the mystery,” he said. “ I 
can no more understand his motive than you can. Brander’s 
explanation of the affair to me was that my father insisted 
against his advice in buying the shares, as he did not believe 
in the rumors to the discredit of the bank. He was a strong 
county man, as you may know, and thought that when people 
heard that he had taken shares, it would tend to restore confi- 
dence in the concern. Now, as, on the contrary, Brander seems 
to have taken special pains to prevent the transaction being 
known even by the directors, it is clear that his explanation was 
a lie, that for some reasons of his own he wished to defeat my 
father’s intentions. I think I must get you to put the state- 
ment you have made to me on paper, and to get it sworn before 
a public notary — at least I think that is the way out here.” 

“ I have no objection to do that, but as it is my intention 
to continue to live here where I am now known as a resident 
and feel myself pretty safe, except from some chance meeting 
like that of yours, I would rather that it should be done some-: 
where else.” 

“ That is reasonable enough,” Cuthbert agreed. “ I expect 
the gates will be open in a day or two, and I shall go to Eng- 
land at once and try to get to the bottom of this matter. I 
should think the Prussians will let Englishmen pass out at 
once. Would you mind going with me as far as Calais ? We 
can get the document sworn to in legal form and you can then 
come back here.” 

“ I would rather go to Brussels,” the man said. 

“ No doubt that would be best,” Cuthbert agreed. “ It might 
be as well that it should not be done at any place in France. 
Well, Mr. Cumming, your secret is safe with me. I will call on 
you again as soon as I find that we can get across to Brussels.” 

“ I shall be ready whenever you are, Mr. Hartington. Of 
course, I don’t quite see what you will do with this document, 
but I am perfectly ready to sign it.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 217 

“ I don’t see either. I shall want to think the matter over. 
At present I feel in a complete fog.” 

“ I can quite understand that. I may tell you that Brander 
puzzled me a good deal the last two or three months before the 
bank stopped. He spent two or three hours going into the 
affairs with me. He knew generally how matters stood, but he 
had never gone thoroughly into them before. When he had 
done he said, ‘ I knew you were in a very bad way before but I 
did not think it was as bad as this. I want to see whether the 
smash could not be postponed. Things have been bad lately, 
but I think they are improving, and some of these affairs that 
you have been bolstering up might pull round if you had time 
given you.” 

“ I did not see much chance of that. However, I did not 
say so — in fact, I wanted to hear what he was driving at. He 
went on, after looking through the list of mortgages we held, ‘ Of 
course. Gumming, it is to your interest to hold on here as long 
as possible, and I may have mine for wishing the bank to keep 
its doors open for some little time yet. It would never do for 
you to be going into the market to try and transfer any of these 
mortgages, but I have clients in London who would, I think, 
take some of them over. Of course, I have taken good care 
that in no cases did the bank lend more than fifty per cent, of 
the full value of the lands, and the mortgages are all as safe as 
if they were on consols. So if you will give me a fortnight’s 
notice when there is anything pressing coming forward, I think 
I can manage to get twenty thousand pounds’ worth of these 
mortgages taken off our hands altogether. I might repeat the 
operation three or four times, and could get it done quietly and 
with no fuss. In that way the bank could be kept going for a 
good many months, which would give time for things to take a 
turn. In case of anything like a run taking place, which I 
think is unlikely, I could let you have fifteen thousand of my 
own in a few hours. I have it standing at call and could run 
up to town and bring it down by the next train.’ 

“ Why he should make such an offer as this puzzled me, but 
his reason for wanting to prop the bank up was no business of 


2i8 


A GIRL OF THE - COMMUNE. 


mine, and there was no doubt if he could get fifty or sixty thou- 
sand pounds’ worth of mortgages taken off our hands, it would 
enable us to hold on for some time. He did, in fact, get one 
batch of twenty thousand pounds’ worth transferred, but about 
a month before we stopped he came in one morning and said, 
‘ I am sorry to tell you. Gumming, that I have heard from the 
people in town I had relied on to help us about those mortgages, 
and they tell me they have undertaken the financing of a con- 
tractor for a South American railway, and that, therefore, they 
are not inclined at present to sink money farther in mortgages, 
so I am afraid, as far as I am concerned, things here must take 
their course,’ and, as you know, they did take their course. 
Naturally, I did not believe Brander’s story, but it was evident 
he had, when he made the offer, some reason for wanting the 
bank to keep its doors open for a time, and that that reason, 
whatever it was, had ceased to operate when he withdrew the 
offer.” 

“ I don’t see that that part of the business has any bearing 
upon my affair,” Cuthbert said, “ beyond helping to show Bran- 
der was playing some deep game of his own.” 

“ I don’t know, Mr. Hartington. However, I will think the 
matter over, and we shall have opportunities for discussing it 
again on our way to Brussels.” 

“ I almost wish I had let the matter alone altogether,” Cuth- 
bert said to himself as he drove back to his lodgings. “ I 
wanted to clear up what seemed a mystery, and I find myself 
plunged much deeper into a fog than ever. Before I only 
dimly suspected Brander of having for some reason or other 
permitted my father to take these shares when a word from 
him would have dissuaded him from doing so. I now find that 
the whole transaction was carried out in something like secrecy, 
and that so far from my father’s name being used to prop up 
the bank, it was almost smuggled into the list of shareholders, 
and that even the directors were kept in ignorance of the trans- 
fer of Cumming’s shares to him. The whole business has a 
very ugly look, though what the motive of this secrecy was, or 
why Brander should be willing to allow, if not to assist, in my 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


219 


father’s ruin is more than I can conceive. The worst of the 
matter is, he is Mary’s father. Yes, I wish to goodness that 1 
had left the whole business alone.” 

Cuthbert had given his address to Gumming, and to his sur- 
prise the man called on him that evening. 

“ You did not expect to see me again to-day, Mr. Harting- 
ton,” he said, when he entered, “ but thinking the matter over 
a fresh light has struck me, and I felt obliged to come round to 
tell you. I hope I am not disturbing you.” 

“ No, I have been so worried over the confounded busi- 
ness, that I have given up going to some friends as I had 
promised, as I didn’t feel that I could talk about indifferent 
matters.” 

“ Well, Mr. Hartington, my idea will surprise you ; it will 
seem incredible to you, and it almost seems so to myself, and 
yet it all works in so that I can’t help thinking it is near the 
mark. I believe that your father never signed that transfer at 
all — that his signature was in fact a forgery.” 

“ The deuce you do,” Cuthbert exclaimed ; “ what on earth 
put such an idea into your head ? Why, man, the idea is 
absurd ! If it was a forgery it must have been done by Bran- 
der, and what possible motive could he have had for such an 
act } ” 

“ That I don’t pretend to say. If I could see that, I should 
say it was a certainty, but I own the absence of motive is the 
weak point of my idea. In all other respects the thing works 
out. In the first place, although your father was not a man of 
business, it was singular that he should go out of his way to 
take shares in the bank, when he must have known that in the 
case of things going wrong his whole property would be in- 
volved. No doubt that idea must have occurred to yourself.” 

“ Certainly ; it astonished me beyond measure that he should 
have done such a thing. I wrote to Brander at once hoping 
for some sort of explanation. I was at the time satisfied with 
that that he gave me, but it was, as you know, because the 
matter, on reflection, has since seemed so extraordinary that I 
came to you to try and get some further information about it,” 


220 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“You saw your father after this supposed transaction, Mr. 
Hartington ? ” 

“Yes, I was down there for a fortnight.” 

“ And he did not mention it to you ? ” 

“Not a word ! ” 

“ Was it his habit to talk on business matters with you ? ” 

“ He never had any business matters except about the estate, 
and he generally told me if he had any difficulty about his 
rents, and discussed any improvements he thought of making, 
but beyond that there was never any question of money. Some- 
times he would say ‘ My balance at the bank is rather larger than 
usual, Cuthbert, and if you like an extra hundred you can 
have it,^ which I never did.” 

“ Well, of course it is only negative evidence that he made 
no allusion to his having purchased those shares, still, as he 
was in the habit of speaking to you about things, he might 
very naturally have said ‘ I have been investing some spare cash 
in the shares of the bank here. ’ ” 

“ Yes, I should have thought he would have done so ! ” 

“You don’t think he would have abstained from telling you, 
because he might have thought you would have considered it 
a rash speculation.” 

“ Certainly not,” Cuthbert said, warmly, “ I should no more 
have thought of criticising anything he chose to do with his 
money, than I should of flying.” 

“ Well, at any rate, you may take it that there is no proof 
whatever that Mr. Hartington was aware of this transaction at 
the time of your visit, nor that he was aware of it up to the 
time of his death.” Cuthbert nodded. “ Now let us suppose 
that this transfer was a forgery, and was committed by Brander, 
what course would he naturally pursue ? Exactly that which 
he followed, namely, to get it placed on the register without its 
being noticed by the directors. These men were all personal 
friends of your father’s. Knowing to some extent, though I 
admit without realizing the peril, that the bank was seriously, 
involved, they might have refused to register the transfer until 
they had privately remonstrated with him, especially as I was 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


221 


the vendor, even had they not done this one or other of them 
would almost certainly have alluded to the subject the first 
time they met him. Brander might have intended later on to 
re-transfer the shares to some bogus purchaser, but at any rate, 
if he knew your father was in bad health he would have wanted 
to keep the bank from putting up its shutters until after his 
death. You will remark that he did assist in that way, while 
your father was alive, and that almost immediately after his 
death, he declined to support the bank farther. What his 
motive can have been in all this I own that I cannot imagine, 
but, given a motive, my supposition appears to be perfectly 
feasible. That the motive, whatever it was, must have been a 
very strong one, I admit, for in the first place he was running 
the risk of being detected of forgery, and in the second must 
have been three hundred pounds out of pocket, for that was 
the amount of the check he handed to me.” 

“ It was his own check, then, and not my father’s ? ” 

“Yes, he said he had rents in hand and therefore paid it out 
of them, which seemed natural enough. But how about the 
signatures of the two clerks ? ” 

“They may be forgeries too, or possibly, knowing your 
father’s signature, they may have signed as a matter of course 
without actually seeing him affix it. You will admit that all 
this is possible.” 

“ It seems possible enough,” Cuthbert said, “ but what mo- 
tive could there have been on Brander’s part ? He could never 
have run such a risk merely to gratify any special fancy he may 
have had for Fairclose.” 

“ Certainly not, Mr. Hartington. Jeremiah Brander has not 
a particle of sentiment in his composition. Of course, as he 
was the solicitor of the company, I made it my business to study 
the man pretty closely, and I came to the conclusion that he 
was a rank humbug, but that he was a humbug because it paid 
him to be one.” 

“ That is quite my own idea of him, but that does not help 
us in the slightest towards an explanation as to why he should 
risk everything when he had nothing whatever to gain by ifi” 


222 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


“ No, I feel that difficulty myself,” Gumming said, stroking 
his chin thoughtfully, “ I admit that beats me altogether. By 
the way,” he said, suddenly, “ I saw in the official report that 
he had a mortgage of fifteen thousand on the estate. Do you 
mind telling me how that came about ? It may possibly help 
us.” 

“ I have not the least idea. I never heard of the existence of 
the mortgage until Brander wrote to me himself about it at the 
time he bought the estate ; but he gave me an explanation that 
perfectly satisfied me at the time.” 

Mr. Gumming looked at him inquiringly. 

“ It was an explanation,” Guthbert said, after a pause, “ that 
closed my lips altogether on the subject. But in the present 
strange state of affairs I do not know that I need abstain from 
mentioning it to you. Brander explained that my father said 
that he required it to close up a matter that had long been 
troubling him. I gathered from the way he put it that it was 
some folly with a woman in his early years, and I need not say 
that respect for my father’s memory prevented me from pursu- 
ing the matter further. Brander said that he had himself ad- 
vanced the money on the mortgage in order that the business 
should be done privately and without any third person being 
cognizant of it.” 

Gumming sat thoughtfully for a minute without speaking and 
then he leapt suddenly to his feet and put his hand on Guth- 
bert’s shoulder. 

“You take my word for it, Mr. Hartington, that mortgage 
was just as much a bogus affair as the transfer. The one 
supplies the motive we have been looking for for the other. 
The failure of the bank brought Fairclose into the market, and 
not only did Brander purchase it for ten or fifteen thousand 
below its value at any other time, but he gained another fifteen 
thousand by this bogus mortgage. There is your motive for 
the forgery of your father’s name on the transfer.” 

“ I cannot believe it,” Guthbert said, slowly. “ Brander 
could never be such a scoundrel as that. Besides, of course, 
the men who wound up the affairs of the bank would look 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


223 


closely into the mortgage. Whether it was real or whether it 
was a forgery, Brander would equally have obtained the money 
at my father’s death, so your supposition of a motive fails.’’ 

“ I do not know. Had the claim been made direct to you, 
you would naturally have got some sharp lawyer to investigate 
it, and, it would have been inquired into a good deal more closely 
than the official liquidator probably took the trouble to do. A 
mortgage, of which no one knows anything until after the 
mortgagor’s death, would always be looked upon with sus- 
picion, and some collateral proofs would be required. Of 
course, I may be wrong altogether, but it would be well for you 
to ascertain whether the official liquidator did take any steps 
to obtain such evidence.” 

“ That I will certainly do,” Cuthbert said. “ I did write to 
him at the time, and I am bound to say his answer seemed 
entirely satisfactory and straightforward. He said that Mr. 
Brander had given proof that he did draw a check for the 
amount of the mortgage on the day on which it was executed, 
and although he did not show that interest had been specifically 
paid by checks from my father, there were receipts found 
among my father’s papers for the half-yearly payments of in- 
terest. These were, it seemed, settled, when Brander, who 
collected his rents, made up his accounts with him.” 

“That all seems straightforward enough, Mr. Hartington, 
and as long as there was no ground for suspicion would doubt- 
less pass muster, but it is certainly worth while inquiring 
int o.” 

Cuthbert sat silent for some time. 

“ After all the whole of this is but the barest suspicion,” he 
said. “ The only thread of fact being that the transfer was 
kept secret from the directors, of which no doubt Brander will 
be able to give some plausible explanation, and his character 
stands so high at Abchester that the question, if raised, would 
be scouted as an atrocious libel upon him. But supposing that we 
had absolute proof, I don’t see how I should stand. If my 
father was not a shareholder in the bank its creditors had, of 
course, no claim whatever on his property, but as the property 


224 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


has in fact been sold and the proceeds divided long ago who 
should I have to go against ? 

“ That is a matter for the lawyers, Mr. Hartington, but I im- 
agine you would not have to go back on the creditors to the 
bank. You would simply prove that the bank was not in a 
position to give a title, and that, therefore, the sale was null and 
void. It would be argued, of course, that you gave the title, 
as I suppose you signed the deeds, and your plea would be 
that the signature was obtained from you by fraud.” 

“ I did not sign the deeds,” Cuthbert said. “ Brander pointed 
out that, as I had not received any rents or profits, it would be 
better that I should stand out of it altogether, and that the will 
should not be proved, as otherwise the death dues would be 
charged upon it, and therefore it remained in the hands of the 
executors of whom he was one, and it was they who gave the 
titles.” 

“ Whoever gave the titles, I should say that, as the bank had no 
claim whatever on the property, if the transfer was a forgery, 
the sale would be declared void and the loss would fall on the 
purchaser. This would, in the case of anyone but Brander, 
have been very hard, but would, in his, be in strict accordance 
with justice. However, this is a matter for which, of course, 
you will require the best legal opinion, but all that is for after 
consideration. The great difficulty, and I grant that I don’t 
see how it is to be got over, is to prove that your father’s sig- 
nature to the transfer was a forgery. The first step is to 
ascertain whether the attesting witnesses were actually present 
as they should have been when your father’s signature was 
affixed.” 

I will clear up that point anyhow,” Cuthbert said ; “ I will 
go straight from Brussels to England, see the clerks, and hear 
what they have to say on the matter. If they were present and 
saw my father sign the transfer there is an end to the whole 
affair.” 

The other nodded. 

“ I would not mind wagering a hundred pounds to one that 
you find that they were not present.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 225 

“ Well, that will soon be settled, for I have heard this after- 
noon that the conditions of surrender were signed this morning 
and that to-morrow the forts are to be given over, and an ar- 
mistice will commence. In that case I suppose that foreigners 
will meet with no difficulty in obtaining passes to leave at once. 
Well, I am very much pbliged to you for the suggestion you 
have made, Mr. Gumming, though I have, I confess, very little 
faith indeed that anything will come of it, and just at present 
it seems to me that I would much rather the matter had re- 
mained as it was.’^ 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

The next morning Cuthbert drove to Madame Michaud’s. 

“You are looking better, Mary,” he said, as he entered; 
“ why, you have got quite a pretty color in your cheeks.” 

“ Don’t talk nonsense, please. I am better, a great deal 
better, but it is no wonder I have a color, I have been blushing 
with shame at my own folly ever since you were here.” 

“ If you never do anything more foolish than that, you will 
get through life well enough. Appearances were against me, 
and you jumped at conclusions a little too fast. Let us say no 
more about it.” 

“ You are not looking so well, I think, Cuthbert.” 

“ No. I have been a little bothered.” 

“ Have you seen that man Gumming ? ” she asked, quickly. 

“Yes,” he answered, in some surprise, “though what should 
make you associate him with my being bothered I don’t 
know.” 

“ You said that you were going to see him, and somehow, I 
don’t know why, I have been rather worrying over it. Was 
the interview satisfactory, did you learn what you wanted ? ” 

“ Not altogether,” he said, “ but it is all a matter of con- 
jecture, Mary, and I own that it has worried me a bit, and, indeed, 
I am' sorry I went to him at all. However, as it is business 
IS 


226 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


and ladies are not good at business, suppose we talk of some- 
thing else.” 

Mary made no reply, but sat looking at him while she twisted 
her fingers nervously before her. “ May I ask one question, 
Cuthbert?” 

“ Yes, if you like, but I don’t promise to answer it ? ” 

“Do you think that there is any blame attached to my 
father ? ” 

Cuthbert was startled. He had certainly not expected this 
question. 

“ What on earth should put that idea into your head, Mary ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” she replied, “ but it has always struck me 
as so strange that he should not have prevented Mr. Hartington 
from buying those shares. I don’t know much of business, 
but I have thought a great deal about it, and it has always 
seemed a strange affair to me, and I have worried a great deal 
over it since he bought the house. That is one reason why I 
hate going there.” 

“ Perhaps your father was not quite so prudent in the matter 
as he might have been, Mary,” Cuthbert said, trying to speak 
lightly, though he found it difficult to do so with the girl’s ear- 
nest eyes fixed on him, “but even of that I am not sure. Now, 
suppose we change the subject again — it seems that we are to 
hit on difficult subjects this morning. The gates will probably 
be opened, at any rate to the foreigners, in a day or two. Are 
you thinking of going home to prepare yourself for taking up 
your vocation as a nurse ” 

“ Not yet,” she replied, “ there is no hurry for that, and it 
will be some time before the country is settled.” 

“ You are sure that you have not changed your mind again } ” 

“ No, why should I ? ” 

“ I thought perhaps you might have done so, and might possibly 
be inclined towards the vocation you so scornfully repudiated 
when I suggested it before. I intended to ask you yesterday, 
but it would not have been fair when you were so weak and 
shaken.” 

The girl had glanced at him and had then flushed hotly. 


A CIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


^27 

** I don’t know — I am not sure — what you mean.” 

“ And I am sure that you know very well, Mary, that I mean 
the vocation of taking care of me, which you repudiated with 
scorn — in fact refused to entertain it seriously at all. Of course 
there may have been other grounds, but the one you laid stress 
on was that I was lazy and purposeless, and that if you ever 
did take up such a vocation it would be to take care of some 
one you could respect. I don’t say for an instant that I 
approach to that altitude, but at least I may say I am no longer 
an idler, that I have worked hard, and that I have every hope 
of success. You see, too, that I want you more than I did 
then. I am a poor artist and not the heir to a good estate. But 
as you are fond of sacrificing yourself, that may not be altogether 
an objection. At any rate, dear, I think I shall be able to 
keep you comfortably. I am not sure I should ever have 
mustered up courage enough to have spoken on this subject 
again, had it not been for yesterday. But that gave me a little 
hope that you really had come to care about me a little, and 
that possibly you might be willing to change your plans again 
in my favor.” 

“ I did not think you really loved me then,” she said. “ I 
thought it was just a passing fancy.”* 

“ You see it was not, dear. All these months that I have 
worked hard, it was partly from the love of art and with the 
hope that I might be a really great artist, but at the bottom of 
it all along has been the thought of you and the determination 
that in one respect I would become worthy of you.” 

“ Don’t talk like that, Cuthbert. I know now that I was a 
headstrong, conceited girl, thinking I was strong when I was as 
weak as water. You were right when you said I was not yet a 
woman, for I had never found that I had a heart. It is I who 
am unworthy.” 

“Well, it is no question of worthiness now. The question is 
do you love me as I love you.” 

“ Are you sure you do, Cuthber-t ? I have thought all these 
months that you had taken me at my word, and that it was but 
as a friend you regarded me. Are you sure it is not gratitude 


228 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


for what little I did for you in the hospital ! Still more that it 
is not because I showed my feelings so plainly the day before 
yesterday, and that it is from pity as well as gratitude that you 
speak now.” 

“ Then you were really a little jealous, Mary ? ” 

“ You know I was. It was shameful of me to show it, so 
shameful that I have hated myself since. I know that after 
doing so, I ought to say no — no a thousand times. I love you, 
Cuthbert, I love you ; but I would rather never marry you than 
feel it was out of pity that you took me. That would be too 
hard to bear.” 

They were both standing now. 

“ You are talking nonsense, child,” he said, tenderly, as he 
took her hand. “You know I love you truly. Surely my pict- 
ures must have told you that. Honestly now, did you not feel 
that it was so ? ” 

“ I did not know you loved me then, Cuthbert. There were 
other things, you know, that made me feel it could not be so, 
but then that for the first time I really knew ” and she stopped. 

“ That you loved me, darling ? ” and he drew her closer to 
him. “ Now, you gave me a straightforward answer before — I 
insist on as straightforward a one now.” 

And this time the answer was not. No. 

“ Mind,” he said a few minutes afterwards, “ your vocation is 
definitely fixed at last, Mary, and there must be no more chang- 
ing.” 

“ As if you did not know there won’t be,” she said, saucily. 
And then suddenly altering her tone she went on, “ Now, Cuth- 
bert, you will surely tell me what you would not before. What 
did you find out ? It is something about my father, I am sure.” 

“ Let me think before I answer you,” he said, and then sat 
silent for two or three minutes. “ Well,” he said, at last, “ I 
think you have a right to know. You may be sure that in any 
case I should before, for your sake, have done everything in my 
power towards arranging things amicably with him. Now, of 
course, that feeling is vastly stronger, and for my own sake as 
well as yours I should abstain from any action against him. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


229 


Mind, at present I have only vague suspicions, but if those sus- 
picions turn out true, it will be evident that your father has 
been pursuing a very tortuous policy, to put it no stronger, in 
order to gain possession of Fairclose. I cannot say definitely 
as yet what I shall do, but at present I incline to the opinion 
that I shall drop the matter altogether.” 

“ Not for my sake, Cuthbert,” she said, firmly. “ I have al- 
ways felt uneasy about it. I can scarcely say why, but I am 
afraid it is so. Of course I know my father better than people 
in general do. I have known that he was not what he seemed 
to be. It has always been my sorest trouble, that we have 
never got on well together. He has never liked me, and I have 
not been able to respect him. I know that if he has done anything 
absolutely wrong — it seems terrible that I should even think such 
a thing possible — but if it has been so — I know you will not 
expose him.” 

“ We will not talk any more about it, dear,” Cuthbert inter- 
rupted ; “ it is all the vaguest suspicion, so let us put it aside 
altogether now. Just at present I am a great deal too happy to 
give as much as a thought to unpleasant matters. We have to 
attend to the business of the hour, and you have the two years 
of love of which I have been deprived to make up for.” 

“ I am very, very glad, Cuthbert, that I was not in love with 
you then.” 

“ Why ? ” 

“ Because we should have started all wrong. I don’t think I 
should ever have come to look up to you and honor you as I 
do now. I should never have been cured of my silly ideas, 
and might even have thought that I had made some sort of 
sacrifice in giving up my plans. Besides, then you were what 
people call a good match, and now no one can think that it is 
not for love only.” 

Well, at any rate, Mary, we shall have between us enough 
to keep us out of the workhouse even if I turn out an absolute 
failure.” 

“ You know you won’t do that.” 

“ I hope not, but at any rate one is liable to illness, to loss of 


230 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


sight, and all sorts of other things, and as we have between us 
four hundred a year we can manage very comfortably, even if I 
come to an end of my ardor for work and take to idleness 
again.” 

“ I am not afraid of that,” she smiled, “ after painting those 
two pictures, you could not stop painting. I don’t think when 
anyone can do good work of any sort, he can get tired of it, 
especially when the work is art. My only fear is that I shan’t 
get my fair share of your time.” 

“ Well, if I see you getting jealous, Mary, I have the means of 
reducing you to silence by a word.” 

“ Have you, indeed ? Will you please tell me what word is 
that ? ” 

“ I shall just say, Minette ! ” 

Mary’s color flamed up instantly. 

“ If you do, sir ; if you do ” and then stopped. 

“ Something terrible will come of it, eh. Well, it was not 
fair.” 

“ It was quite fair, Cuthbert. It will always be a painful 
recollection to me, and I hope a lesson too.” 

“ It will not be a painful recollection to me,” he laughed. “ I 
think I owe Minette a debt of gratitude. Now, what do you 
say to taking a drive, Mary ? Horse-flesh has gone down five 
hundred per cent, in the market in the last three days, and I 
was able to get a fiacre on quite reasonable terms.” 

“ Is it waiting here still ? How extravagant, Cuthbert, it must 
have been here nearly an hour.” 

“ I should say I have been here over two hours and a quarter 
according to that clock.” 

“ Dear me, what will Madame Michaud think? Shall I tell 
her, Cuthbert ? ” 

“I don’t care a snap what she thinks. You can do just as 
you like about telling her. Perhaps it will be as well, as I in- 
tend to see a good deal of you in the next few days. But if 
you write home don’t say anything about it. There are reasons 
which we can talk over another time, why it will be best to keep 
it to ourselves for a time.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


231 


Mary nodded. That he wished a thing was quite sufficient 
for her at the present moment. 

“ Do you want me to go out with you ? ” she asked. 

“ Just as you like. I believe that as a rule a ring has to be 
purchased at the conclusion of an arrangement such as we have 
just entered into, and I thought you might just as well chose 
one yourself.” 

“ Oh, I would much rather not,” she exclaimed, “ and besides, 
I think for to-day I would rather sit quiet and think it all over 
and realize how happy I am.” 

“ Well, for to-day you shall have your own way, Mary, but 
you have been doing a good deal more thinking than is good 
for you, and after to-day we must go out for a good walk reg- 
ularly. You see we have both to get up our strength. I had 
quite forgotten I had anything the matter with me, and you 
only wanted rousing, dear. The doctor said as much to me, 
and you know, after all, happiness is the best tonic.” 

“ Then 1 must be perfectly cured already, Cuthbert, but re- 
member you must take care of yourself. The best of tonics 
won’t set any one up at once who has had a real illness as you 
have had. You want something more substantial. Good strong 
soups and roast beef are the essentials in your case. Re- 
member, sir, I have been your nurse and mean to continue so 
till .your cure is complete. You will come again to-morrow, 
Cuthbert ? ” 

“ Of course, dear. Now about that ring. I have observed 
you never wear one. Have you one you can lend me, or must 
I measure with a piece of thread } ” 

“ I will get you one, Cuthbert. I am not without such a pos- 
session although I have never worn one. I looked upon it as 
a female vanity,” she added, with a laugh, “ in the days when 
I thought myself above such things. What a little fool you 
must have thought me, Cuthbert ? ” 

The next morning when Cuthbert came Mary had her things 
on in readiness to go out with him, and after a short delay to 
admire and try on the ring, they set out together. 

“ I did not tell you yesterday, Mary,” Cuthbert said, after 


232 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


they had walked a short distance, “ that as soon as the arrange- 
ments for foreigners to leave the town are settled, I am going 
to Brussels with Gumming. He is going to make an affidavit, and 
this he cannot do here, as, if I should have occasion to use the 
document, it would be the means of enabling the police to trace 
him here and to demand his extradition. After that I shall go 
on to England to make some inquiries that are essential. I will 
give you all particulars if you wish it, but I think it will be very 
much better that you shall know nothing about the matter ; it may 
turn out to be nothing at all ; it may on the other hand be ex- 
tremely important. It is a painful business anyhow, but in any 
case I think it will be much the best that you should know 
nothing about it. You can trust me, can you not? ” 

“ Altogether,” she said, “ and certainly I would rather know 
nothing about it. But mind, Cuthbert, you must do what you 
think is right and best without any question about me. If you 
have been wronged you must right yourself, and I am sure that 
in doing so you will do it as gently and kindly as possible.” 

“ I will try to do so,” he said. “ At present, as I told you, 
the suspicions are very vague and rest entirely upon the state- 
ment Gumming has made. If those suspicions should be 
verified, a great wrong has been done and that wrong must be 
righted, but that can no doubt be arranged without publicity or 
scandal. The reason why I do not wish you to say a word 
about our engagement is, that were it known it would tie my 
hands terribly and render it so impossible for me to take any 
strong ground, that I should be altogether powerless.” 

“ Do entirely as you think best, Guthbert. Of course, be- 
yond the fact that perhaps something wrong may have been 
done, I have not an idea what it can be, and I do not want to 
know, unless it must be told me. How long are you likely to be 
away and do you think you are fit to travel ? ” 

“ There is no great fatigue in travelling,” he said. “ I can’t 
say how long I shall be, not long I hope. You maybe sure that 
I shall not be longer than I can possibly help.” 

“ I shall miss you dreadfully, but of course if you think it 
necessary,' you must go. Besides,” she said, saucily, “ if you 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


233 


are in no hurry about me I know you will be anxious to get 
back to finish your pictures. No, Cuthbert, I really can’t have 
that. There are people in sight.” 

I don’t care if there are,” he laughed. 

“ I do, very much. Whoever heard of such a thing ? What 
would they think of me ?'” 

“ I did not know that you cared what people thought of you, 
Mary.” 

‘‘ Not about some things, perhaps, but there are limits, you 
know.” 

A week later, duly provided with passes, Cuthbert and Gum- 
ming made their way in a carriage to the Belgian frontier, and 
then went on by train to Brussels, where, on the day after their 
arrival. Gumming drew up and signed a statement with refer- 
ence to the details of his transference of the shares to Mr. 
Hartington, and swore to its contents before a Belgian legal 
official. 

“ I shall stay here for a few days,” he said to Cuthbert, as 
the latter started the next morning for England. “ I am quite 
safe for the present, and after a long course of horse-flesh I 
really cannot tear myself away from decent living, until Paris is 
re-victualled, and one can live there in comfort again. I wish 
you every success in your search. The more I think of it the 
more convinced I am that we are not far wrong as to the 
manner in which Brander has got hold of your estate.” 

Cuthbert, on arriving in London, took up his quarters at the 
Charing Cross Hotel. On the morning after his arrival he 
wrote a letter to Dr. Edwardes, at Abchester. 

“ My Dear Doctor, — I have just returned from Paris, where 
I have been shut up for the last four months. I do not care 
about coming down to Abchester at present. I suppose I have 
not quite got over my soreness over matters in general, but 
for reasons which I need not enter into, I want to know if 
Brander’s clerks, who were with him when I was last there, are 
still with him in his office, and, if not, where they are em- 
ployed. I do not know anyone else to write to on the subject, 


234 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


and I am sure you will not mind taking the trouble in the 
matter for me.” 

The answer came back by return of post. 

“ My Dear Cuthhert, — I was very glad to hear of you again. 
I have asked Brander from time to time about you, and he 
always says that he has not heard from you for months, and 
though your letter says nothing beyond the fact that you are 
alive, I was glad to get it. I hope next time you write you 
will give me full details about yourself, and that ere long you 
will make up your mind to come down. I need not say that 
we shall be delighted to put you up when you do come. I 
should imagine you would not care to go to Fairclose. Now 
as to your question. Harford, the elder of the two clerks, left 
the office here very shortly after you went away. Levison, the 
younger, is still here. I put myself in the way of meeting him 
as he went to the office this morning. I stopped and chatted 
with him for a minute or two, and asked him carelessly how 
Mr. Harford was and whether he ever heard from him. He 
said he heard occasionally and that he was well. ‘ By the way, 
where is he working now ? ’ I asked, ‘ I know he went up to a 
firm in town.’ ‘ Oh, yes, he is with Barrington and Smiles, of 
Essex Street. He is getting on very well there, I believe. He 
is head of their conveyancing branch. I wish I could drop 
into as good a billet. Doctor. I should be very glad of a change.’ 
So much for that business. Things are getting on pretty much 
the same up at the old place. Brander still comes up to his 
office for an hour or so every day. I don’t think he cares much 
for the county gentleman’s life. I fancy Mrs. B. is rather a 
disappointed woman. The fact is there was a good deal of 
feeling in the county as to Brander’s connection with the bank. 
Almost everyone was let in more or less, you know, for the 
depositors have only got eight shillings in the pound so far, and 
I don’t suppose they will ever get much more. There is an idea 
that Brander ought to have found out what was going on, and 
indeed that he must have known a good deal about it, and that 
at any rate what he did know should have been ample to have 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


235 

rendered it his duty to warn your father against taking shares 
so short a time before the smash. His purchase of Fairclose 
did not improve matters, and so far from their taking your 
father’s place in the county, I may say without being absolutely 
cut they are much more out of it than they were before. How- 
ever, when you come down I will give you all the local gossip.” 

It was late in the afternoon when Cuthbert received the letter 
and he at once went to Essex Street. Several clerks were writ- 
ing in the office. A lad came forward to ask him his business. 

“ I want to speak for a moment to Mr. Harford.” 

The lad went up to one of the desks and the clerk came for- 
ward. 

“I don’t know whether you remember me,” Cuthbert said, 
“ my name is Hartington.” 

“ I remember you very well, Mr. Hartington, though you are 
changed a good deal.” 

“ I have had a sharp illness, but I am getting over it now. I 
particularly wished to speak to you about a matter in connection 
with my father’s affairs. I am staying at the Charing Cross 
Hotel and should feel very much obliged if, when you leave here, 
you would come round for a few minutes.” 

“ With pleasure, sir, but I shall not get away till seven.” 

“ That will do very well,” Cuthbert said. “ I would not have 
troubled you had it not been important.” 

A few minutes past seven the clerk was shown into Cuthbert’s 
room. After asking him to take a chair Cuthbert said — 

“ As you are aware, Mr. Harford, my loss of the Fairclose 
estates arose from the unfortunate circumstances of my father 
having taken a few shares in the Abchester and County Bank. 
The matter has always been a puzzle to me. I have been 
abroad for the last eighteen months, and now, having returned, 
am anxious to get to the bottom of the matter if I can. The 
transfer of the shares from Cumming, the manager of the bank, 
to my father, was signed at Mr. Brander’s office, I fancy. At 
any rate, you and Mr. Levison were the attesting witnesses 
to my father’s signature. Have you any memory of the trans- 
action, and would you object to fell what took place ? ” 


236 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


“ I remember about the transfer, Mr. Hartington, because, 
when the crash came, everything connected with it was talked 
over. In point of fact, we did not see Mr. Hartington’s sig- 
nature actually attached. He called at the office one day, and 
just after he had left Mr. Brander called us in and said, ‘ Please 
witness Mr. Hartington’s signature.’ Of course, we both knew 
it very well and witnessed it. I did not notice the names on 
the body of the transfer, though, of course, I knew from the 
appearance of the document what it was, but Mr. Brander just 
pointed out where we were to sign and we signed. Th% only 
thing I noticed was that as I wrote my eye fell on the top line, 
and I saw that it was dated ten days earlier.” 

Was that unusual ? ” 

“ No, documents are often dated at the time they are drawn 
up, although they may not be signed for some days later. Of 
course it is not exactly regular, but it often happens. A form 
is filled up and one or other of the parties may be away or un- 
able to sign. I happened to notice it, but it did not strike me 
in any way.” 

“ And were you often called upon to attest signatures in this 
way without seeing them written ? ” 

“ There was nothing unusual in it. As a general rule we 
were called into the room when a signature had to be witnessed, 
but it occasionally happened, in the case where it was a well- 
known client and we were perfectly acquainted with the sig- 
nature, that we did not sign until he had left the office.” 

“Do you remember if such a thing ever happened any other 
time in the case of my father ! ” 

“ Only once, I think, and that was afterwards. We signed 
then as witnesses to his signature to a legal document. I don’t 
know what its nature was. It was done in the same manner 
directly Mr. Hartington had driven away.” 

“ It might have been a mortgage deed.” 

“ It might have been, sir, but as I saw only the last page of 
it, and as there were but three or four lines of writing at the 
top of the page, followed by the signatures, I have no idea even 
of the nature of the document.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


237 


‘‘May I ask if you have left the office at Abchester on pleas- 
ant terms with Mr. Brander and his partner, for, of course, 
you know that he still takes an interest in the firm.” 

“ Oh, yes, it is still carried on as Brander and Jackson, and 
Brander still goes down there for an hour or two every day. 
Yes, I left on pleasant terms enough, that is to say, I left of my 
own free will. I had for some time wished to come up to 
London, and hearing through a friend in this office of a vacancy 
at Barrington and Smiles, I applied and was fortunate enough 
to getfit.” 

Cuthbert sat silent for a time. So far the answers he had 
received tallied precisely with Cumming’s theory. He did not 
see how he could carry the inquiry farther here at present. The 
clerk, who was watching him closely, was the first to speak. 

“ I own, Mr. Hartington, that I do not in the slightest degree 
understand the gist of your questions, but I can well imagine 
that at the present moment you are wondering whether it would 
be safe to ask farther. I will, therefore, tell you at once that one 
of my reasons for leaving Mr. Brander’s employment was that 
I did not like his way of doing business, nor did I like the man 
himself. The general opinion of him was that he was a public- 
spirited and kind-hearted man. I can only say that our opin- 
ion of him in the office was a very different one. He was a 
hard man, and frequently when pretending to be most lenient 
to tenants on the estates to which he was agent, or to men on 
whose lands he held mortgages, he strained the law to its ut- 
most limits. I will not say more than that, but I could quote 
cases in which he put on the screw in a way that was to my mind 
most absolutely unjustifiable, and I had been for a very long 
time trying to get out of his office before the opportunity came. 
I may also say, Mr. Hartington, that I had the highest respect 
for your father. He always had a kind word when he came 
into the office, and regularly at Christmas he handed Levison 
and myself a check for ten pounds each, for, as he said, the 
trouble his business gave us. I tell you this in order that you 
may feel you can safely repose any confidence in me, and that 
my advice will be wholly at your service if you should think fit 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


238 

to give me your confidence in this matter, whatever it may be. 
But at the same time I must say it would be still better if you 
put yourself in the hands of some respectable firm of solicitors. 
I do not suggest my own principals more than others, although 
few men stand higher in the profession.” 

“ There are reasons against my laying the matter before any 
firm of solicitors, and the chief of these is that my hands are 
lied in a peculiar manner, and that I am unable to carry it 
through to its natural sequence, but I will very thankfully ac- 
cept your offer and will frankly tell you the nature of my sus- 
picions, for they are nothing more than suspicions. I may 
first say that the news that my father was a shareholder 
in the Abchester Bank astounded me. For a time, I put it 
down to one of those sudden impulses that are unaccount- 
able, but I may tell you, and here my confidence begins, that I 
have come across Gumming, the bank manager, and from him 
have obtained some curious particulars of this transaction — par- 
ticulars that have excited my suspicions. 

“ You wondered why I asked you those questions. I will 
tell you. You did not see my father affix his signature to 
either of those documents. The one being certainly the transfer 
of some of Cumming’s shares to him. The other being, as I 
believe, the mortgage that, as you doubtless heard, Mr. Brander 
held over my father’s estate. How could you tell those two 
signatures were not clever forgeries ? ” 

Mr. Harford gave a start of surprise. 

“ God bless me, sir,” he exclaimed, “ such an idea never en- 
tered my mind.” 

“ That I can quite understand,” Cuthbert said, quietly, “ but 
you must admit it is possible.” 

“But in that case,” the clerk said, after a pause, “Brander 
himself must have been the forger, and surely that is not pos- 
sible. I fancy I know Mr. Brander pretty well, but I should 
never have dreamt him capable of forgery. Not because I have 
a high opinion of his honesty, but because I believe him to be a 
cautious man, and besides I do not see what possible interest 
he could haye had in ruining your father by putting his name 


A GIRL OF THE COMMVNE. 239 

on to the register of shareholders. Even if he had an interest 
in so doing the risk of detection would be frightful, for not only 
would the matter be known to the directors, but, as you are 
aware, any shareholder has a right on the payment of a nominal 
fee to inspect the list of shareholders.” 

“ Precautions were taken against this,” Cuthbert said. “ Just 
glance through this paper, which has been signed and sworn to 
by Gumming in proper form at Brussels.” 

Mr. Harford ran his eye over the document and then read it 
through carefully word by word. 

“ This is an extraordinary statement,” he said, gravely, “ do 
you believe it, Mr. Hartington ? ” 

“ I believe it implicitly. I had the man practically at my 
mercy. As you know, there is a warrant out for his arrest and 
a word from me would have set the police on his track and led 
to an application for his extradition. Therefore he had every 
motive for telling me the truth, and I am as certain as I can 
be, that he did so.” 

“ If so there can be no question that Mr. Brander had some 
very strong reason indeed for preventing the knowledge of this 
transfer having ever been made from being known ; but in any 
case it must have come out when the bank failed and of course 
he must have had a pretty accurate knowledge of the state of 
its affairs.” 

“ Yes, but it man be that he had an equally accurate knowl- 
edge of the state of my father’s health. That would account 
for what Gumming says as to his offer to bolster up the bank 
for a time, and for a retraction of that offer within a few days 
after my father’s death.” 

“ But why on earth should he have run all this risk merely to 
ruin you ? He had . no cause of enmity against you, had he, 
sir ? ” 

“ None,so far as I knew but now we come to the other document 
where you witnessed the signature without having seen it signed. 
If the signature on the transfer was a forgery, why not that on 
the mortgage, if it was the mortgage. If so you see the motive 
of the transfer. The smash of the bank brought a good many 


A CTRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


^40 

estates into the market and they would consequently go cheap. 
Not only would he get it far below its value, but by reason of this 
pretended mortgage he would get a further drawback of ;^i5,ooo 
from the price he would pay as its purchase.” 

“ Good heavens, Mr. Hartington ! You take my breath 
away ! Have you any reason whatever for believing that the 
mortgage was a bogus one ? ” 

“ None, beyond the fact that I was ignorant of its existence. 
I was so surprised that I not only wrote to Brander himself but 
to the official liquidator. The former said he had advanced 
the money at the urgent request of my father, who told him he 
wished to settle a very long standing claim upon him, and that 
he desired that the transaction should be kept an absolute 
secret. The official liquidator said he had gone carefully into 
the question of the mortgage, that it was of three years, 
standing, that the receipts Mr. Brander had given my 
father for the half-yearly interest on the money had been 
found among my father’s papers, and that Brander had more- 
over produced a document, showing that he had sold securities 
to that amount, and had drawn the money from his bankers in 
town by a singled check for ;^i 5,000. Do you remember 
whether such a deed was ever drawn up in the office ? ” 

“ Certainly it was not, but you see that proves nothing, for 
it was to be kept a secret. Brander might have had it drawn 
up by some solicitor in London.” 

“ I see that. Well, then, this deed, whatever it was that you 
witnessed, was that drawn up in the office ? ” 

“ No. I remember Levison and I talked it over and said it 
was curious that a deed between Brander and Mr. Hartington 
should not have been given to us as usual to be drawn up.” 

“You witnessed his signature then as well as that of my 
father?” 

“Yes, I have a particular reason for remembering that, for I 
had sat down hurriedly after he had signed it, and dipping my 
pen too deeply in the ink, made a blot. It was no doubt a 
stupid thing to do, but Brander was so unreasonably angry 
about it, and blew me up so roughly that I made up my mind 


A GIRL OR THE COMMUNE, 


241 


there and then to stand it no longer, and wrote that very even- 
ing to my friend in my present office the letter which led to my 
getting the situation there two or three months later.” 

“ That blot may be a most important one,” Cuthbert said, “ if 
it occurs on the mortgage deed on Fairclose, it is clear that 
document was not, as it professes on its face, executed three 
years earlier.” 

“ That would be so indeed,” Mr. Harford exclaimed, excitedly ; 
“ it would be a piece of evidence there would be no getting 
over, and that fact would account for Brander’s anger, which 
seemed to me was out of all proportion to the accident. If you 
could show that the mortgage deed on which Brander claimed 
is really that document we witnessed, it would be all up with 
him. As to the receipts for the payments of interest they 
proved nothing as they were, of course, in Brander’s own hand- 
writing and were found where he put them. If you could find 
out that Brander had knowledge of Mr. Hartington’s state of 
health about the time that transfer was produced you would 
strengthen your case. It seems to me that he must have got 
an inkling of it just before he filled up the transfer, and that 
he ante-dated it a week so that it would appear to have been 
signed before he learnt about his illness. I can see no other 
reason for the ante-dating it.” 

“ That may have been the reason,” Cuthbert agreed. “ It 
was one of the points for which Gumming and I, talking it 
over, could see no motive. Certainly he would wish that if any- 
one said to him you ought to have prevented Mr. Hartington 
buying those shares when you knew that he was in a precarious 
state of health, to be able to reply that when the shares were 
bought he had not the slightest idea of his being in anything 
but the best of health.” 

“ At any rate I will see Dr. Edwardes, and ascertain exactly 
when he did tell Brander. He is certain to be able by turning 
back to his visiting book, to ascertain when he himself became 
aware of my father’s danger, and is likely to remember whether 
he told Brander at once.” 

“ But even without that, Mr. Hartington, if you can prove that 
16 


24 i A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 

question of the date of the deed you have him completely on 
the hip. Stil] it will be a very difficult case to carry through, 
especially if you cannot get Gumming to come into court.” 

“ But, as I began by telling you, I cannot carry out the case 
to a legitimate conclusion, nor do I want the intervention of 
lawyers in the matter. I want the estate back again if I can 
get it, but rather than this matter should be made public I 
would not lift a little finger to regain the property. It happens,” 
and he smiled dryly, “ that Mr. Brander’s reputation is almost 
as dear to me as it is to him, for I am going to marry his 
daughter. We should not feel quite comfortable together, you 
see, at the thought that the father was working out a sentence 
of penal servitude.” 

“ That is an unfortunate combination indeed, Mr. Hartington,” 
Mr. Harford said seriously, though he could not repress a smile 
of amusement at the unexpected news. “ Then it seems to me, 
sir, that Brander may in fact snap his fingers at any threat you 
may hold out, for he would feel certain that you would never take 
any steps that would make the matter public.’’ 

“ Fortunately,” Cuthbert replied. “ Mr. Brander is wholly 
unaware of the little fact I have mentioned, and is likely to 
remain so until matters are finally arranged between us.” 

“ That is indeed fortunate. Then I understand, Mr. Har- 
tington, your object is to obtain so strong a proof of Brander’s 
share in this affair as will place you in a position to go down to 
him, and force him into some satisfactory arrangement with you.” 

“ That is it, and it is clear the first step will be to see the 
official liquidator and to obtain a sight of the mortgage.” 

“ I suppose you know that he is the head of the firm of Cox, 
Tuke, and Atkinson, in Coleman Street. I suggest that the 
best plan will be to see him to-morrow, and to make an appoint- 
ment with him for you to inspect the mortgage. You would 
■S wish me, of course, to be with you when you do so ? ” 

“ Think you very much. I will go round there in the morn- 
ing, and will call at your office afterwards and let you know if 
I have arranged the matter, and the time at which I am to call 
to inspect the mortgage.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


243 


CHAPTER XIX. 

CuTHBERT, on Calling upon the head of the great firm of 
accountants, was courteously received by him. 

“ Of course, I remember your name, Mr. Hartington, with re- 
ference to the Abchester Bank failure. It seemed a particularly 
hard case, and I know our Mr. Wanklyn, who had charge of 
the winding up, took particular interest in it, and personally 
consulted me more than once about it, though I cannot exactly 
recall the circumstances now. What is it that you say you 
want to examine ? ” 

“ I want to have a look at the deed of mortgage that Mr. Bran- 
der, who purchased the property, had upon it.’’ 

“Yes, I remember now, that was one of the points on which 
Mr. Wanklyn consulted me. It struck him at first sight as 
being rather a remarkable transaction, and he went into it 
carefully, but it was all proved to be correct to his satisfaction. 
It is unfortunate that the system of registering mortgages is 
not enforced everywhere as it is in London — it would save a 
great deal of trouble in such cases as the present.” 

“ Are the affairs of the bank quite wound up ? ” 

“ Dear me, no, Mr. Hartington. Why, it is but two years 
since the failure. There are properties to be realized that cannot 
be forced on the market without ruinous loss. There are 
assets which will not be available until after death ; it is not 
the assets of the bank, but the assets of individual shareholders 
and debtors of the bank that have to be collected. I should 
say it will be at least twenty years before the last dividend will 
be divided. I am sure Mr. Wanklyn will be happy to let you 
see any document you desire. I will take you to him.” 

Mr. Wanklyn had a room on the same floor with his prin- 
cipal, and Mr. Cox took Cuthbert and introduced him to 
him. 


244 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE^ 


“ Mr. Hartington wants to have a look at the mortgage that 
Brander held on the late Mr. Hartington’s estate. You remem- 
ber we had several talks about it at the time, and you took a 
good deal of pains about the matter. Mr. Hartington wrote to 
me about it from Paris, if you recollect, and you replied to him 
in my name. I will leave him with you to talk it over.” 

“ Have you any particular reason for wanting to see the 
deed, Mr. Hartington ? ” the accountant asked, when Mr. Cox 
had left the room. “ I only ask because I suppose the docu- 
ments connected with the winding up of the bank must weigh 
several tons, and it will take a considerable time for a clerk to 
hunt out the one in question. If you have really any motive 
for examining it I will get it looked out for you by to-morrow, 
but it will put us to a great deal of trouble.” 

“ I am really anxious to see it for a special purpose, Mr. 
Wanklyn. I have reason to believe there was some irregularity 
in the matter.” 

“ I am afraid it will make but little difference to you whether 
it was so or not, Mr. Hartington. The creditors of the bank 
have been the sufferers if there was any irregularity in it.” 

“Yes, I suppose so, and yet I assure you it is not a mere 
matter of sentiment with me. Other questions might turn 
upon it.” 

“ Then I will certainly have it ready for you by to-morrow — 
give me until the afternoon. Will four o’clock suit you ” 

“ Very well. I will, with your permission, bring with me 
one of the attesting witnesses to my father’s signature. He 
was one of Mr. Brander’s clerks at the time.” 

Mr. Wanklyn looked up keenly. 

“You can bring whom you like,” he said, after a pause, “ and 
I will put a room at your disposal, but of course the document 
cannot be taken away.” 

“Certainly not, Mr. Wanklyn, and I am very much obliged 
to you for granting my request.” 

Cuthbert called for James Harford at the hour at which he 
had said he went out to lunch, and told him of the appoint- 
ment he had made. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


245 

“ I have been thinking it over, Mr. Hartington, and I should 
recommend you to bring Cooper with you.” 

“ Who is Cooper ? ” 

“ He is one of our greatest experts on handwriting. I don’t 
know whether you have any of your father’s letters in your pos- 
session.” 

“Yes, I have several. I brought over the last two I had 
from him, thinking they might be useful.” 

“ Well, his opinion on the signatures maybe valuable, though 
as a rule experts differ so absolutely that their evidence is 
always taken with considerable doubt, but it is part of his 
business to look out for erasures and alterations. It is quite 
possible Brander may have removed that blot, and that he has 
done it so well that neither you nor I could detect it; but 
whether he did it with a knife or chemicals you may be sure 
that Cooper will be able to spot it, whichever he used. I have 
very little doubt that your suspicions are correct and those 
parchments were really the pretended mortgage deeds. If you 
like I will go round and see Cooper at once and arrange for 
him to meet us in Coleman Street to-morrow at four o’clock.” 

“ Thank you very much. The idea of the blot being erased 
had never struck me.” 

The next day Cuthbert met James Harford and Mr. Cooper 
at the door of the accountants, and after being introduced by 
the clerk to the expert they went up together. On giving his 
name in the office a clerk came across to him. 

“ If you will come with me, gentlemen, I will lead you to 
the room that is ready for you. This is the document that you 
desire to see.” 

As soon as they were alone they sat down at the table, and 
opened the deed. 

“ How is it for size ? ” Cuthbert asked. 

“ It is about the same size, but that is nothing. All deeds 
are on two or three sizes of parchment. The last page is the 
thing.” 

Cuthbert turned to it. There were but four lines of writing 
at the top of the page, and below these came the signatures. 


246 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


“ Of course I could not swear to it, Mr. Hartington, but it is 
precisely in accordance with my recollection. There were 
either three, four, or five lines at the top. Certainly not more 
than five, certainly not less than three. As you see there is 
no blot to my signature. Now, Mr. Cooper, will you be kind 
enough to compare the signatures of these two letters with the 
same name there ? ” 

Mr. Cooper took the letter and deed to a desk by the win- 
dow, examined them carefully, then took out a large magnifying 
glass from his pocket, and again examined them. 

“ I should say they are certainly not by the same hand,” he 
said, decisively. “ I do not call them even good imitations. 
They are nothing like as good as would be made by any expert 
in signing other people’s names. The tail of the ‘ J ’ in James 
in these two letters runs up into the ‘ a,’ but as you will notice 
the pen is taken off and the letter ‘ a’ starts afresh. Here on 
the contrary you see the pen has not been taken off, but the 
upstroke of the ‘ J ’ runs on continuously into the ‘ a.’ More 
naturally it would be just the other way. In these two letters 
the writer would be signing his name more hurriedly than to a 
formal deed, and would be much more likely to run his letters 
into each other than when making a formal signature on parch- 
ment. 

“ Looking through this glass you will observe also that 
although the letters run on together there is a slight thickening 
in the upstroke between each letter as if the writer had paused, 
though without taking his pen off, to examine the exact method 
of making the next letter in a copy lying before him. In the 
surname there are half a dozen points of difference. To begin 
with, the whole writing slopes less than in the other signatures. 
In both your father’s letters the cross of the first ‘ t ’ is much 
lower than usual and almost touches the top of the ‘ r ’ and ‘ i.’ 
The same peculiarity is shown in the second ‘ t ’ in both letters, 
while on the deed the ‘ t’s ’ are crossed a good deal higher. 
The whole word is more cramped, the flourish at the end of the 
‘n ’ is longer but less free. In the capital letter, the two down- 
strokes are a good deal closer together. There has been the 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


247 


same pause between each letter as those I pointed out in the 
Christian name, and indeed the glass shows you the pen was 
altogether taken off the paper between the ‘ o ’ and the ‘ n,’ as 
the writer studied that final flourish. My opinion is that it is 
not only a forgery but a clumsy one, and would be detected at 
once by anyone who had the original signatures before him. I 
will even go so far as to say that I doubt if any bank clerk 
v/ell acquainted with Mr. Hartington’s signature would pass 
it.” 

“ And now for the blot,” Cuthbert said. “ There was a blot 
somewhere near the signature of Mr. Harford.” 

“ Don’t tell me where it was, Mr. Harford. I would rather 
not know its exact position.” 

With the aid of the magnifying glass the expert carefully 
examined the parchment and then held it up to the light. 

“ The blot was in the middle of the signature and involved 
the letters ‘ a ’ and ‘ r.’ Is that right ? ” 

“ That is right, Mr. Cooper ; he used blotting paper to it at 
once, and it did not show up very strongly.” 

“ An eraser has been used and a chemical of some sort, and the 
two letters involved in the blot have been re-written, or at any 
rate touched up, but they have run a little. You can see it quite 
plainly through this lens. The difference between their out- 
line and that of the other letters is quite distinct, and by hold- 
ing the parchment so that the light falls across it, you can see 
that, although it has been rubbed, probably by the handle of a 
penknife to give it a gloss, the difference between that gloss 
and the rest of the surface, is distinctly visible.” 

“ I see that,” the clerk said, “ and I should be quite prepared 
to swear now, Mr. Hartington, that this is the document I signed 
some three weeks after I signed as witness to the transfer.” 

“ That is quite good enough, I think,” Cuthbert said. “ Thank 
you, Mr. Cooper, you have quite settled the doubt I had in my 
mind. I do not think 1 shall have occasion to ask you to go 
into court over this matter, but should I have to do so I will, of 
course, give you due notice.” 

■ After paying the expert’s fee Cuthbert went into the office 


248 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


and handed the document over to the clerk from whom he had 
received it. 

“ Would you kindly put it where it can be got at easily should 
it be wanted again. It is of the highest importance.” 

After parting with Mr. Cooper at the door, Cuthbert walked 
westward with Mr. Harford. 

“ So far you have proved that your suspicions are correct, sir, 
and I have not the least doubt that your father’s signature to 
the transfer was, like this, a forgery. May I ask what step you 
propose to take next.? Of course if your object was not to pre- 
vent publicity your course would be clear. You would first 
apply for a warrant for the arrest of Brander on a charge of 
double forgery. When that was proved, you would have to take 
steps to apply to have it declared that your father’s name was 
wrongfully placed among the shareholders of the bank, and then 
endeavor to obtain a decree ordering the liquidator to reimburse 
the proceeds of the sale of the estate and all other moneys 
received by him from your father’s executor. Lastly, you would 
apply to have the sale annulled, not only on the ground of fraud 
on the part of Mr. Brander, but because the liquidators could 
not give a title. Of course in all these steps you would have 
to be guided by a firm of high standing, but as you particularly 
wish to avoid publicity, I suppose your first step will be 
to confront Brander with the proofs of his guilt. I suppose 
you would wish me to go down with you. I shall be able to do 
so without difficulty, for I took no holiday last year and can, 
therefore, get two or three days whenever I choose to ask for 
them.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Harford. It will certainly be desirable 
that I should be backed up by your presence. The first thing 
I shall do will be to go down to Abchester to see Dr. Edwardes. 
I want to ascertain from him when he first knew of my father 
having heart-disease. That he did know it before his death I 
am aware, though, at my father’s particular request, he abstained 
from informing me of the fact. He may also know when 
Brander first became acquainted with it. It will strengthen my 
case much if I am in a position to show that it was after he had 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


249 


the knowledge that my father’s death might take place at any 
moment, that he committed these frauds. • As soon as I find 
this out, which will probably be in a few hours after my arrival 
there, I will send you a telegram. I am anxious to lose no 
time, because I do not want Brander to know of my arrival in 
Abchester until I confront him. If I could find out what he 
did with the ^15,000 he proved to the liquidator that he had 
drawn out on the day this mortgage was said to have been 
executed, I should have the chain of evidence complete, but I 
don’t see how that is to be got at.” 

“ It might be got at by advertisements, Mr, Hartington ; 

5,000 is a large sum, and were you to advertise a reward of 
j^ioo for information as to whom Mr. Brander paid the sum of 
;^i 5,000 on the date named in the mortgage, it is quite probable 
you might obtain the information.” 

“ I might get it that way, but unless it is absolutely necessary 
I would rather not do so. Were I to advertise before I see 
him, he might have his attention drawn to it, and it would put 
him on his guard. I can but resort to it afterwards if he 
refuses to come to terms.” 

Accordingly, the next day Cuthbert went down to Abchester, 
travelling by a train that arrived there after dark, and taking 
a fly, drove to Dr. Edwardes’. 

The servant took in his name and the doctor at once hurried 
out into the hall. 

“Why, my dear Cuthbert, I am glad indeed to see you, 
though from your letter I had hardly hoped to do so for some 
little time. Come in, come in ; my wife will be delighted to see 
you. Dinner is just on the table, so you have arrived at pre- 
cisely the right moment.” 

“Dear me, Mr. Hartington, you are looking terribly ill,’^ Mrs. 
Edwardes exclaimed, after the first greetings were over. 

“ I have been ill, but I am quite convalescent now. I did 
rather a foolish thing, Doctor. I joined a corps of Franc-tireurs 
raised in the schools and studios, and the Germans put a bullet 
through my body. It was a very near squeak of it, but fortu- 
nately I was taken to the American ambulance, which was far 


250 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


the best in Paris, and they pulled me through. It is but ten 
days since I was discharged cured, but of course it will be some 
little time before I quite get up my strength again.” 

“ Where was it, Cuthbert ? Then you were fortunate indeed,” 
he went on, as Cuthbert laid his finger on the spot; “the odds 
were twenty to one against you. Did they get the bullet out ? ” 

“ It went out by itself. Doctor. We were at close quarters in 
the village of Champigny when we made our sortie on the ist 
of December, so the ball went right through, and almost by a 
miracle, as the surgeon said, without injuring anything vital. 
There is the dinner-bell. Doctor. I will go into your surgery 
and wash my hands. I remember the ways of the place, you 
see.” 

During dinner-time the talk was entirely of the siege. When 
the meal was over, the doctor and Cuthbert went to the former’s 
study, where the doctor lighted a cigar and Cuthbert his pipe. 

“ How are they getting on at Fairclose?” Cuthbert asked, 
carelessly. 

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I should say they heartily regret having changed their 
quarters. Of course it was her doing that they did so. She is 
a curious mixture of cleverness and silliness. Her weak point 
is her ambition to be in county society, and to drop the town 
altogether. She has always been hankering for that. No 
doubt it is partly for the sake of the girls — at least she always 
lays it to that. But when I used to attend them as babies, she 
was always complaining to me that the air of the town did not 
suit her. However, so far from gaining by the exchange, she 
has lost. 

“ As the leading solicitor here, and I may say the leading 
man in the place, Brander went a good deal into the county. 
Of course his wife did belong to a county family, and no doubt 
that helped open the doors of many good houses to him. Well, 
he is in the county now, but he is not of the county. There 
was naturally a lot of bad feeling about the smash of that bank. 
A good many men besides yourself were absolutely ruined, and 
as everyone banked there, there was scarce a gentleman in the 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


251 

county or a tradesman in the town, who was not hit more or 
less severely. The idea was that Brander, whose name had 
been a tower of strength to the bank, had been grossly negli- 
gent in allowing its affairs to get into such a state. I think 
they were wrong, for I imagine from what I heard, that Brander 
was correct in saying that he was not in any way in the coun- 
sels of the directors, but confined himself to strictly legal busi- 
ness, such as investigating titles and drawing up mortgages, and 
that he was only present at the Board meetings when he was 
consulted on some legal questions. 

“ Still there is no stemming the tide of popular opinion. 
Abchester demanded a scapegoat. Gumming had disappeared, 
the five directors were ruined, and so they fell upon Brander. 
He could have got over that — indeed he has got over it as far 
as the town is concerned — but his purchase of Fairclose set the 
county against him. They considered that he got it for ^20,000 
below its value, which was true enough ; the other estates that 
went into the market were all sold at an equal depreciation, but 
it was felt somehow that he at least ought not to have profited 
by the disaster, and altogether there was so strong a feeling 
against him that the county turned its back on Fairclose.” 

“ By the way. Doctor, can you tell me when and how you first 
became aware of the state of my father r The loss was so re- 
cent that I asked but few questions about it when I was here, 
though you told me that you had known it for some little 
time.” 

“ I can give you the exact date,” the doctor said, stretching 
out his hand for a book on his desk. “ Yes, here it is ; it was 
the 23rd of March. His man rode down with the news that he 
had found him insensible. Of course I went up as hard as my 
horse could carry me. He had recovered consciousness when 
I got there, and his first request was that I should say nothing 
about his illness. When I examined him, I found that his heart 
was badly diseased, so badly that I told him frankly he had not 
many weeks to live, and that, as the slightest shock might 
prove fatal, I absolutely forbade him to ride. He said he 
hated to be made a fuss of. I urged him at least to let me write 


252 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


to you, but he positively refused, saying that you would be 
greatly cut up about it, and that he would much rather go on 
as he was. The only exception he made was Brander. He 
was the only soul to whom I spoke of it. I called in and told 
him directly I got back here and he went that afternoon to 
Fairclose.” 

The date was conclusive to Cuthbert. The transfer had 
been ante-dated some three weeks ; and the two clerks, there- 
fore, attested it on the 24th or 25th of March ; so Brander had 
lost no time in conceiving his plan and carrying it into 
execution. 

“ By the way. Doctor,” he said, after a pause, “ I shall be 
glad if you will not mention to anyone that I am here. I don’t 
want people to be coming to see me, and I would especially 
rather not see Brander. I never did like the man from the time 
I was a boy, and I don’t think I could stand either his business 
manner or his hearty one. I thought I would come down and 
have the pleasure of a chat with you again for a day or two, 
but I don’t mean to stir out while I am here.” 

The next morning Cuthbert obtained a telegraph form from 
the doctor and sent his man with it to the post-office. It was 
directed to Harford, and contained only the words, “ Come 
down this evening if possible. Put up at the George. Come 
round in the morning to Dr. Edwardes.’ ” 

Cuthbert was really glad of the day’s rest, and felt all the 
better for it. On the following morning Harford’s name was 
brought in just as breakfast was over. 

‘‘ It is the man who was Brander’s clerk. Doctor,” he said. 
“ I met him in town and he has come down to see me on a lit- 
tle matter of business.” 

‘‘ Take him into the consulting-room, Cuthbert, I am not 
likely to have any patients come for the next half-hour.” 

“ That settles it, sir,” the clerk said, when he heard from 
Cuthbert of the date which he had obtained from the doctor, 
“ though I cannot swear to a day.” 

“ I hear that Brander comes to his office about eleven o’clock. 
He is sure to be there, for I hear that Jackson has gone away 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


253 

for a few days. I will go at half-past. If you will call here for 
me at that time we will walk there together. I will go in by my- 
self. I will get you to call two or three minutes after me, so 
that I can call you into his private room if necessary.” 

“You have soon done with him,” the doctor said, as Cuth- 
bert returned to the breakfast-room. 

“ I have given him some instructions and he will call again 
presently,” Cuthbert replied. “ By the way, we were talking 
of Brander ; how have his two girls turned out } I mean the 
two younger ones ; I met Mary in Paris during the siege.” 

“ Ah. I heard from Brander that she was shut up there, 
and I was wondering whether you had run against her. He is 
very savage at what he calls her vagaries. Did she get through 
the starvation all right ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, she was living in a French family, and like most 
of the middle class they had laid in a fair stock of provisions 
when it became evident the place was to be besieged, and 
though the supply of meat was stinted I don’t think there was 
any lack of other things.” 

“ I liked Mary,” the doctor said, warmly ; “ she was a straight- 
forward, sensible girl, till she got that craze about woman’s 
rights in her mind ; in all other respects she was a very nice 
girl, and differed from the rest of them as much as chalk 
from cheese.” 

“ And what are the sisters like .? ” 

“ They are like their mother, vain and affected, only without 
her cleverness. They feel bitterly their position at Fairclose, 
and make matters wor^e by their querulous complainings. I 
never go into the house unless I am sent for professionally, for 
their peevishness and bad temper are intolerable. If things 
had gone differently, and they had made good marriages, they 
might have turned out pleasant girls enough. As it is they are 
as utterly disagreeable as any young women I ever came 
across.” 

“ Then Brander must have a very bad time of it.” 

“ Yes, but from what I have seen when I have been there I 
don’t thing they show off before him much, I fancy Brander’s 


254 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


temper has not improved of late. Of course, in public, he is the 
same as ever, but I think he lets himself loose at home, and I 
should say that the girls are thoroughly afraid of him. I have 
noticed anyhow that when he is at home when I call, they are 
on their best behavior, and there is not a word of any un- 
pleasantness or discontent from their lips. However, I suppose 
the feeling against Brander will die out in time. I think it was 
unjust, though I don’t say it was not quite natural, but w^hen 
the soreness wears off a bit, people will begin to think they 
have been rather hard on Brander. There’s the surgery bell, 
now I must leave you to your own devices.” 

At half-past eleven James Harford called, and Cuthbert at 
once went out with him, and they walked towards Mr. Brander’s 
office, which was but a couple of hundred yards away. 

“ How do you do, Mr. Levison ? ” Cuthbert asked as he 
entered. “ Is Mr. Brander alone ? ” 

“ Yes, he is alone, Mr. Hartington. I am glad to see you 
again, sir.” 

With a nod Cuthbert walked to the door of the inner office, 
opened it, and went in. Mr. Brander started, half rose from 
his chair with the exclamation — 

“ My dear ! ” then he stopped. 

There was something in the expression of Cuthbert’s face 
that checked the words on his lips. 

“ We need not begin with any greetings, Mr. Brander,” Cuth- 
bert said, coldly. “ I have come to tell you a story.” 

“ This is a very extraordinary manner of address, Mr. Hart- 
ington,” the lawyer said, in a blustering tone, though Cuthbert 
noticed his color had paled, and that there was a nervous twitch- 
ing about the corners of his lips. Brander had felt there was 
danger, and the blow had come so suddenly that he had not 
had time to brace himself to meet it. Without paying any 
attention to the words, Cuthbert seated himself and repeated — 

“ I have come to tell you a story, Mr. Brander. There was 
once a man who was solicitor, agent, and friend of a certain 
land-owner. One day he had heard from his client’s doctor 
that he had had an attack of heart-disease and that his life was 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


255 


only worth a few weeks’ purchase ; also that the landowner 
desired that an absolute silence should be observed as to his 
illness. Then, like another unjust steward, the lawyer sat 
down to think how he could best turn an honest penny by the 
news. It was rather a tough job ; it would involve forgery 
among other things, and there was a good deal of risk, but by 
playing a bold game it might be managed.” 

“ What do you mean by this ? ” the lawyer exclaimed, 
furiously. 

“ Calm yourself, Mr. Brander. There is no occasion for you 
to fit the cap on to your own head yet. If you think there is 
anything in my story of a libellous nature you are at liberty to 
call your two clerks in to listen to it. Well, sir, the scheme 
this lawyer I am telling you about worked out did credit to 
his genius — it was complicated, bold, and novel. It happened 
he was solicitor to a bank. He knew the bank was hopelessly 
involved, that it could last but a few weeks longer, and that its 
failure would involve the whole of the shareholders in absolute 
ruin. If, therefore, he were to contrive to place his client’s 
name on the register of shareholders that point would be 
achieved. Accordingly, having forms by him he filled one up, 
forging the name of his client. It would not have done to have 
had the date of the transfer later than the seizure of that gen- 
tleman, for manifestly no man, aware that he had but a few days 
or weeks to live, would have entered on a fresh investment. 
He, therefore, ante-dated the transfer by some three weeks. 

“ As to the witnesses to the forged signature there was no 
difficulty. He waited for a few days till his client called upon 
him, and then, after his departure, called in his two clerks, who 
witnessed the signature as a matter of course, — an irregular 
proceeding, doubtless, but not altogether uncommon. That 
matter concluded he went to the bank. It was above all things 
important that none of the directors should be cognizant of his 
client having been put on the register, as being friends of that 
gentleman they might have mentioned the matter to him when 
they met him. Having the manager a good deal under his 
thumb, from his knowledge of the state of affairs, he re- 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


256 

quested him to pass the transfer with others at the next board- 
meeting, in such a way that it should be signed as a matter of 
routine without the names being noticed, suggesting that the 
manager should transfer some of the shares he held. This little 
business was satisfactorily performed and the name passed 
unnoticed on to the register. There was one thing further to be 
done in this direction, namely, that the bank should not fail 
before the death of his client, and he therefore requested 
the manager to let him know should there be any pressure 
imminent on the bank’s resources, offering to get some of the 
mortgages it held transferred, and so to bolster up the bank 
for a considerable time. As a matter of fact he did raise £ 20 - 
000 in this manner, and so kept the bank going until after his 
client’s death, when he withdrew the offer, there being no longer 
any occasion to keep it on its legs. You follow this, I hope, 
Mr. Brander. It is interesting for ingenuity and boldness.” 

The lawyer made no reply. As Cuthbert spoke the ruddy 
color on his cheeks had been replaced by a ghastly pallor. An 
expression of bewilderment had come across his face, the per- 
spiration stood out in big drops on his forehead. 

“Thus far you see, Mr. Brander,” Cuthbert went on, “the 
first part of the scheme had been ably carried out, but it still 
remained to reap the benefit of this ingenuity. In the first place 
it was certain that the estate of his client would, on the failure 
of the bank, come into the market. Under such circumstances, 
and seeing there would be widespread ruin in the county, the 
estate w^ould fetch far under its value. It would be advisable 
to get it cheaper still, and this could be managed by the pro- 
duction of a mortgage upon it, and by the invention of a 
plausible tale to account for that mortgage having been kept 
a secret even from the dead man’s son. As to the deed 
itself, the matter was easy enough; the document would only 
have to be drawn up by himself, or in some office in London, 
the signature of his client affixed as before and the two clerks 
be called in to witness it. 

“ It would be necessary to satisfy the official liquidator, 
however, who might make some inquiries concerning it. It 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


257 


happened that some time before the lawyer had had occasion 
to pay over the sum of ^15,000, as he would be able to prove 
by his bank-book. Therefore, ;£‘i 5,000 was the sum fixed upon 
for the mortgage, and the date of that document was made to 
coincide with that of the payment of that amount. It was easy 
enough to place among the dead man’s papers receipts for the 
half-yearly payment of this interest. It was not necessary to 
show that his client had paid these sums by check, as they 
would, of course, have been deducted from the amount to be 
handed over by him as agent to his client. 

“ The scheme worked admirably. After the death of his 
client, the bank was allowed to break, the estate fell into the 
hands of the official receiver of the bank, the mortgage was 
presented, and the proofs considered satisfactory. The lawyer 
bought the estate for some £20^,000 below its value, and this 
with the mortgage brought the purchase money down from 
£jo,ooo to half that sum. The story is interesting, and if any- 
one should doubt it I am in a position to prove it up to the 
hilt. I have the sworn statement of the bank manager as to 
the particulars of the interview with him, the injunction that 
the transfer should be passed unnoticed, the offer to support 
the bank, and the partial fulfilment of that offer. I have the 
opinion of an expert that the signature is not only a forgery but 
an exceedingly clumsy one. I have the statement of one of 
the clerks that the signature of both the transfer and the 
mortgage was witnessed by him and his fellow-clerk in obe- 
dience to the orders of the solicitor, but they did not see the 
signature affixed. 

“ Lastly, I have a singular piece of evidence that the mort- 
gage was signed not on the date it purported but shortly after 
the seizure of the client. The clerk might have had some 
difficulty in swearing that this mortgage was the document that 
he signed, as the signatures were written on the last sheet of 
the parchment, and he saw nothing of the contents. But it 
happened that there were only four lines of writing on that page, 
and there are four on the mortgage in the hands of the official 
liquidator, but this is not the crucial point. The clerk, in 
^7 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


258 

making his signature, dropped a blot of ink on the parchment. 
Now it was clear that this blot of ink might prove the means of 
identifying this document and of proving the time at which it 
was signed ; therefore it was necesssary that it should be erased. 
This the lawyer proceeded to do and so cleverly that an un- 
practiced eye would not detect it. The expert, however, though 
not knowing where the blot had fallen, detected the erasure at 
once, and noticed that in erasing it two of the letters of the 
name had been involved, and these had been retouched so as to 
make them the same darkness as the rest. The chain of evi- 
dence is therefore complete.” 

The last blow had proved too crushing. There was a sudden 
rush of blood to his face, and, with a gasping sob, Mr. Brander 
fell back in his chair insensible. Cuthbert ran to the door and 
opened it. 

“ Mr. Levison, your employer is taken ill. Send the other 
clerk to fetch Dr. Edwardes at once, he will not have started on 
his rounds yet. Bring some water in here.” 

With the assistance of the clerk, Cuthbert loosened the law- 
yer’s necktie and collar, swept the papers off the table, and laid 
him upon it, folding up his great coat and placing it under his 
head. ^ 


CHAPTER XX. 

“ Apoplexy ! ” Dr. Edwardes exclaimed, as soon as he entered. 
“Cut his sleeve open, Cuthbert. Fetch a basin, sir, and some 
water,” he added to the clerk. 

He took a lancet from his pocket and opened a vein in the 
arm. At first only a few drops of dark-colored blood issued 
out. 

“ Dip a cloth in cold water and wrap it round his head ; and 
do you, lad, run down to Miggleton, the confectioner, and get 
some ice, quick ; it is a matter of life or death ! ” 

At last the blood began to flow more freely. 

“ I think he will do now,” the doctor said, “ it is his first 
seizure. I have told him a good many times that he was too 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


2^59 

fond of good living and did not take exercise enough. What 
brought this about, Cuthbert ? ” 

“ We had an unpleasant interview, Doctor. I had some ugly 
truths to tell him and did not spare him.” 

“ Then I think you had better go before he comes to his 
senses again. Tell my man to bring down a mattress, pillows, 
and blankets. He won’t be fit to be moved to-day, and we 
must make him up a bed here. Directly I see that he is out of 
immediate danger, I will send over to Fairclose to break the 
news to his wife. Yes, I will come round and let you knowhow 
he is going on as soon as I can leave him.” 

Cuthbert nodded and put on his hat and went out. James 
Harford was standing a few paces from the door. 

“ He has had a fit,” Cuthbert said, as he joined him. 

“ I thought that was it when I saw the clerk run down the 
street without a hat and come back with the doctor two or three 
minutes later. Will he get over it ? ” 

“ The doctor thinks so, and I am sure I most sincerely hope 
he will do so — it would be a bad business in all ways if he did 
not. Now, Mr. Harford, I don’t think there is any occasion 
to detain you here longer ; it may be days before I can see him 
again, and I don’t think it will be needful for you to confirm my 
statements. I fancy the fight is all out of him — it came upon 
him too suddenly — if he had known that I was here he might 
have braced himself up, but coming down like an avalanche 
upon him it stunned him. Now, Mr. Harford, you must permit 
me to draw a check for ten pounds for your expenses down 
here ; when I come to my own again I shall be able properly to 
show my gratitude for the inestimable services you have rendered 
me.” 

“ I will take the money for my expenses, Mr. Hartington, but 
I can assure you that I have no thought or wish for payment 
of any kind for my share in this business, and am only too glad 
to have been able to give some little aid towards righting the 
grievous harm you have suffered, to say nothing of paying off 
my old score against Brander.” 

Half an hour later Dr. Edwardes returned home. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


260 

“ He is conscious now,” he said to Cuthbert. “ That is to 
say, vaguely conscious. I have not let him speak a word, but 
simply told him he had had a fit and must remain absolutely 
quiet. I don’t suppose he has as yet any recollection whatever 
of what preceded it. I am going to write a note and send it 
up to Fairclose. I must keep a close watch over him for a bit, 
for I have taken a good deal of blood from him.” 

“ I would rather you did not mention to anyone. Doctor, that 
I was present at the time he had the fit, as things may happen 
ere long that will set people talking, and if it was known that it 
was during an interview with me that he had this apoplectic 
stroke it might give rise to unpleasant surmises — unpleasant 
not only to him but to me, for — this is also a secret at present 
— I am going to marry his eldest daughter ! ” 

“ You don’t say so, Cuthbert. Well, I congratulate you, for 
she is a charming girl. I need not say that you can rely upon 
my keeping it quiet until you choose to have it published.” 

“ Well, Doctor, as it may be some days before I can see 
Brander again, I will go back to town this evening. I did not 
see anyone I knew as I went to his office, and I would rather 
that it should not be known that I am down here. As you are 
going back there now you might ask Levison to come round 
here to see me. I will then tell him that neither Brander nor 
myself would wish it mentioned that I was with him at the time 
he had that seizure.” 

“ Then I suppose the fact is, Cuthbert, that while I have been 
flattering myself your visit was to me, you really came down 
to see Brander ? ” 

“ I am rather afraid. Doctor, that had some influence in bring- 
ing me down, but you must forgive me this time.” 

“ All right, lad, I am glad to have had a glimpse of you again, 
whatever your motive was in coming down.” 

It was ten days before Cuthbert received a letter from the 
doctor saying that Mr. Brander was now strong enough to see 
him. 

“ He has asked to see you several times,” he said, “ but I 
have told him that I could not permit him to talk. However, 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


261 


he is a good deal stronger now and is downstairs, again, and as 
I am sure some worry or other is preying on his mind and keeping 
him back, I told him this morning that I would send for you.” 

Cuthbert went down by the next train and was driven over in 
the doctor’s gig to Fairclose. It was strange to him to enter 
the familiar house as a visitor, and he looked round the library 
into which he was shown upon giving his name, with a sort of 
doubt whether the last two years had not been a dream. 

He had not much time for thought for the door opened and 
Mr. Brander entered. Cuthbert was shocked at his appearance. 
He looked a mere wreck of himself. He walked feebly and 
uncertainly. His face was pale and the flesh on the cheeks 
and chin was loose and flabby. He made his way to an arm- 
chair and sank wearily into it. 

“ What are you going to do with me, Cuthbert Hartington ? ” 
he asked in a weak voice. “ Does all the world know that I am 
a forger and a swindler ? ” 

“No one knows it, Mr. Brander, nor need anyone know it. 
If you make restitution as far as is in your power, the matter 
may rest entirely between us. With the evidence in my posses- 
sion I am in a position to obtain a judge’s order striking out my 
father’s name from the list of shareholders of the bank and 
annulling the sale of Fairclose, of regaining my own, and of 
securing your punishment for the offences you have committed. 
The latter part, as. I have said, I have no desire to press. I 
consider that you have been punished sufficiently already, but I 
must insist upon the restoration of the estates of which I have 
been wrongfully deprived.” 

“ And you will say nothing of what I have done ? ” 

“ Nothing whatever ; it will be for you to offer any reason you 
choose for resigning Fairclose to me, but there is one other point 
that I must insist on, namely, that you leave Abchester. Your 
illness will be a valid excuse for retiring altogether from an active 
share in the business and of relinquishing the part you have 
taken in the affairs of the town. As the senior partner you will 
doubtless receive a sufficient income from your business to 
enable you to live in comfort elsewhere, and it will be for your 


262 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


own benefit as much as mine for you to leave the place, for it 
will be painful for both of us to meet.” 

“ I cannot give up Fairclose altogether unburdened,” the 
lawyer said. “;^i5,ooo of the purchase money I found myself. 
The other £20,000 I raised on mortgages of the estate, and 
although that mortgage would be invalidated by the proof that 
I had no power to give it, the mortgagee would, of course, fight 
the question, and the whole matter would be made public.” 

Cuthbert was silent for a minute, not from any great doubt 
or hesitation, but he did not wish the man to see that he was 
eager to make terms, for he would at once think that he was not 
in the position to prove the statement ] i had made. 

“ It is a large sum,” he said, “ a very large sum to lose, and 
then there are two years’ rents that you have received.” 

“These I could repay, Mr. Hartington,” the lawyer said, 
eagerly. “I have six thousand pounds invested in securities 
I could realize at once.” 

Cuthbert was silent again. 

“ Mr. Brander,” he said at last, “ I feel, and I think naturally, 
very sore at the cruel wrong that has been inflicted upon me, 
but I cannot forget that in my boyhood I w'as always received 
with kindness by your wife, and for her sake, and that of your 
daughters, I am most anxious your reputation should remain 
untarnished. I am willing to believe that this crime was the 
result of a sudden impulse, and that in other respects you have 
been an honest man. I cannot forget, too, that my father had 
a great esteem for you. As to the two years’ rents you have 
received, I will not claim them. I have done well enough with- 
out them, and in fact the necessity for working for my living 
has been of great advantage to me, and that alone makes me 
less inclined than I otherwise might be to press hardly upon 
you. I will, therefore, make this offer. You shall sign a paper 
that I have drawn up confessing the share you have taken in 
this business. That paper I pledge myself solemnly to keep a 
profound secret, unless by any subsequent actions you force me 
to use it in self-protection, and that you will sign a deed of gift 
to me of Fairclose and its estates, subject to the mortgage of 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


263 

£ 20 , 000 . You can hand me over the deeds of the estate and I 
will have the deed of gift drawn up. You will also give me 
your promise to leave this town and settle elsewhere. On these 
conditions, I pledge you my word that the transactions by which 
you obtained possession of the estates shall not be divulged, 
and that the high reputation you bear shall be altogether 
unsullied.” 

“ God bless you, Mr. Hartington,” the lawyer said, in a 
broken voice, “ for your generosity in sparing my wife and chil- 
dren from the shame and disgrace that would have fallen upon 
them had you insisted on your rights. It is more than I de- 
serve. I have never had a day’s happiness since I came here ; 
it seemed to me that all danger of detection had passed, and 
yet it was ever before me. I was ever dreading that in some 
way I had not provided against, it would come out.” 

“ May I ask what income you will draw from your business ? ” 

“ The business is worth between four and five thousand a 
year, and by my deed of partnership I was to receive two-thirds 
of that as long as I myself chose to take a share in the man- 
agement, and one-third when I like to retire altogether. A 
thousand a year is to be paid to my widow after my death, and 
two hundred apiece to my daughters at her death.” 

“ So you will have some fifteen hundred a year, Mr. Brander, 
and with that and the six thousand you have invested you will 
not do badly. I shall return to town this evening again and 
will bring down the deed as soon as it is prepared.” 

“ The papers connected with the estate are in a tin box at 
my office, Mr. Hartington,” Mr. Brander said, in a voice more 
like his own than he had hitherto used. “ I will write an order 
to Levison to hand it over to you. I feel a different man 
already,” he went on, as he got up and took a seat at the table ; 
“ before, it seemed to me, there was nothing but disgrace and 
ruin staring me in the face. Now, I may hope that, thanks to 
your forbearance, I may enjoy in peace what remains to me of 
life. You may not believe me, Mr. Hartington, there is no 
reason why you should — but I swear to you I have been a mis- 
erable man ever since your father’s death. It was not that I 


264 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


was afraid of detection — it seemed to me in that respect I had 
nothing to fear — and yet I was miserable. Before, I was proud 
of the respect in which I was held in the town, and felt to some 
extent I deserved it, for 1 had given up well nigh every moment 
of my spare time to its service. Since then I have known that 
the poorest man in the town would draw aside from me did he 
but know what I was. To my family it has been a terrible dis- 
appointment that the county has turned its back on us. To 
me it has been a relief. I have felt a sort of satisfaction at 
finding that, in this respect at least, I had sinned in vain. 
Were it not for my wife and girls I would even now prefer that 
all should be known and that I should take the punishment 
that I deserve. I could bear prison-life better than to go about 
and mix with other men, knowing what I know of myself and 
feeling always what they would think of me did they know it 
also ” and he broke down and buried his face in his hands. 

Cuthbert put his hand on his shoulder. 

“ You have done wrong, Mr. Brander, but as you have re- 
pented of it, you may fairly hope it will be forgiven you as freely 
and as fully as I forgive you. You may take it from me that I 
feel I have been greatly benefited by what has taken place, 
and that I have reason to bless the necessity that fell upon me 
for working for my living. I was spending a very useless and 
indolent life, and had nothing occurred to rouse me, should prob- 
ably have led it to the end. Now I have worked hard for two 
years, and my masters tell me that I have every prospect of ris- 
ing to eminence as an artist. There will be no occasion for 
me to rely upon that as a profession now, but the good the 
necessity for work has done me will remain, and at any rate I 
shall continue to work at it until this mortgage is paid off. It 
has in another way brought happiness into my life. Therefore, 
on my account at least, you need not regret what has happened. 
I should say nothing at present as to your intention of leaving 
here. Possibly we may hit upon some reason for your doing 
so that will be accepted as a natural one. I can assure you I 
am as anxious as you are yourself, indeed more so, that no 
shadow of suspicion of anything wrong should rest upon you. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 265 

So do not worry yourself about it. You can safely leave it in 
my hands. Now I will say good-bye. I hope that when I re- 
turn I shall find you stronger and better. I do not know that 
there is any occasion for you to sign this paper I have brought.” 

“ I would rather do so,” the lawyer said, firmly. “ It will be 
a relief to me to know that I have at least made a full confes- 
sion.” 

He took the document Cuthbert had drawn up, read it 
through carefully, then took a pen and added at the bottom — 

“ The fifteen thousand pounds mentioned above as having 
been drawn by me from my bank for the purpose of the mort- 
gage, was really used for the payment of calls on shares held 
by me in the Oakhurst Mining Company. This can be estab- 
lished by a reference to the accounts of that company in the 
hands of the liquidator.” 

He then signed his name and handed the paper to Cuthbert. 

In spite of the efforts the latter made to hurry on Messrs. 
Barrington and Smiles, it was nearly three weeks before the 
deed of gift was prepared. It had, in the first place, been 
sketched out by Cuthbert, with the assistance of James Harford, 
and recited “That Mr. Brander, of Fairclose, handed back that 
estate, together with the house and all appurtenances appertain- 
ing thereto, to Cuthbert Hartington as a dowry with his daughter 
Mary upon her marriage with the said Cuthbert Hartington, 
being moved thereto partly by his love and affection for his 
daughter, partly by the desire to restore to the said Cuthbert 
Hartington the family estates of which he had been deprived, 
partly from the want of care of the said Jeremiah Brander in 
failing to represent to the late J. W. Hartington, father of the 
said Cuthbert Hartington, the grievous nature of the liability 
he would incur by taking shares in the Abchester and County 
Bank.” 

Cuthbert was the more anxious to get the affair arranged, as 
the insurrection in Paris had broken out, and he was eager to. 
return there. At last the deed was drawn up and he returned 
to Abchester, and taking a fly at the station drove straight to 
Fairclose. 


266 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


He had written several times to Mary lamenting that busi- 
ness had detained him longer than he expected, and suggest- 
ing that it would be better for her to leave Paris at once, but 
she had replied that she would rather remain there, at any rate, 
until his return. As he did not wish her to come to Abchester 
at present, he abstained from pressing the point, believing that 
McMahon would speedily collect a sufficient force at Versailles 
to suppress the insurrection 

He found Mr. Brander looking much more himself. It was 
a very subdued likeness, but he had evidently gained strength 
greatly. 

“ I have been longing for your return,” he said, as soon as 
Cuthbert entered the library. “ I am eager to get out of this 
and to go away. Have you brought down the deed ? ” 

“ Here it is ; it is all stamped and in due form, and needs 
only your signature and that of two witnesses.” 

Mr. Brander rang the bell. 

“ John, call Gardener in. I want you both to witness my 
signature.” The coachman came in. 

“ Glad to see you again, Mr. Cuthbert,” he said, touching an 
imaginary hat. 

“ I am glad to see you, Gardener. I knew you were still 
here.” 

All was ready for the signature. While waiting for the men’s 
entry Cuthbert had said — 

“ I would rather you did not read this deed until you have 
signed it, Mr. Brander. I know it is a most unbusiness-like 
thing for you to do, but I think you may feel sure you can trust 
me.” 

“ I have no intention of reading it,” the lawyer said. “ What- 
ever the conditions of that paper I am ready to comply with 
them.” 

After the signatures had been affixed, and the witnesses had 
retired, Cuthbert said — 

“ Now, Mr. Brander, you are at liberty to read the deed. I 
think you will find its provisions satisfactory.” 

Mr. Brander, with a slight shrug of his shoulders that signi- 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


267 

fied that he was indifferent as to the details of the arrangement^ 
took the paper and began to run his eyes carelessly through it. 
Suddenly his expression changed. He gave a start of surprise, 
read a few lines farther, and then exclaimed — 

“ Can this be true, are you really going to marry Mary ? ” 

“ It is quite true,” Cuthbert said, quietly. “ I first asked her 
a few weeks before my father’s death when I met her down 
at Newquay. She refused me at that time, but we have both 
changed since then. I saw a great deal of her in Paris and she 
worked as a nurse in the American ambulance during the siege. 
I w'as one of her patients, having been shot through the body 
and brought in there insensible. Having assisted in saving my 
life she finally came to the conclusion that she could not do 
better than make that life a happy one. She had refused me be- 
cause she considered, and rightly, that I was a useless member of 
society, and the fact that I was heir to Fairclose had no influence 
whatever with her, but finding that I had amended my ways 
and was leading an earnest and hard-working life, she accepted 
me, small though my income was.” 

“ God bless her ! ” Mr. Brander said, fervently. “ We never 
got on well together, Mr. Hartington. I had always an uneasy 
consciousness that she disapproved of me, and that she regarded 
me as a humbug, and as I was conscious of the fact myself this 
was not pleasant. So I was rather glad than otherwise that she 
should choose her own path. But I am indeed delighted at this. 
She is honesty and truth itself, and I pray she may make up to 
you for wrongs you have suffered at my hands.” 

“ She will do much more than that, Mr. Brander, and you see 
I have good reason for what I said when I was here before, that 
the change in my fortune had been a benefit, since it had forced 
me to take up a profession and work at it. Had it not been 
for that I should never have won Mary. My being once again 
master of Fairclose would not have weighed with her in 
the slightest. She would not have married a mere idler, 
had he been a duke. Now you' had better finish reading the 
deed.” 

The lawyer read it through to the end, 


268 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“You have indeed made it easy for me,” he said, when he 
had laid it down. 

“ You see, I have an object in doing so, Mr. Brander. I told 
you that my interest in your reputation was as great as your 
own. I hope that in any case I should not have made a harsh 
use of the power I possessed. I am sure that I should not, 
especially as I felt how much I had benefited by the two years 
of work, but perhaps I might not have felt quite so anxious that 
no breath of suspicion should fall upon you had it not been for 
Mary. ” 

“ Does she know ? ” Mr. Brander asked. 

“ She does not know and will never hear it from me. She 
may have vague suspicions when she hears that you have made 
over Fairclose to me, but these will never be more than suspi- 
cions. Nor need your other daughters know. They may wonder, 
perhaps, that Mary should have so large a share of your prop- 
erty, but it will be easy for you to make some sort of explana- 
tion, as is given in this deed, of your reason for restoring Fair- 
close to me with her.” 

“ They will be too glad to get away from here, to care much 
how it was brought about, and if afterwards they come to ask 
any questions about it, I can tell them so much of the truth that 
it had been found the sale of the property to me had been alto- 
gether illegal and irregular, and that in point of fact you had a 
right not only to the estate but to the £20^000 for which I mort- 
gaged it to raise the purchase money, and to the two-years’ rents. 

“ That is what I shall tell my wife. I think she has always 
had a vague suspicion that there was something shady about 
the transaction, and I shall tell her that, so far from regarding 
the loss of Fairclose as a hardship, I consider you have behaved 
with extreme generosity and kindness in the matter. Women 
do not understand business. I am sure it won’t be necessary 
to go into details. She, too, will be heartily glad to leave Fair- 
close.” 

“ Shall we go in and see them, Mr. Brander? You can tell 
them as much or as little of the news as you think fit, and after 
that you can give me some lunch. I want it badly.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 269 

“ Thank you,” Mr. Brander said, gratefully. “ I did not like 
to ask you, but it will make matters easier.” 

He led the way into the drawing-room. Mrs. Brander was 
sitting at the window with an anxious look on her face. She 
knew of Cuthbert’s former visit, and that he was again closeted 
with her husband, and had a strong feeling that something was 
wrong. The girls were sitting listlessly in easy-chairs, not even 
pretending to read the books that lay in their laps. They rose 
with a look of bright surprise on their faces as Cuthbert entered 
with their father. 

“ Why, Mr. Hartington, it is ages since we saw you.” 

“ It is indeed — it is over two years.” 

“ I have two surprising pieces of news to give you, Eliza. In 
the first place it has been discovered that there was a very seri- 
ous flaw in the title to Fairclose, and that the sale to me was 
altogether illegal. Mr. Hartington has behaved most kindly 
and generously in the matter, but the result is he comes back 
to Fairclose and we move out.” 

The three ladies uttered an exclamation of pleasure. Fair- 
close had become hateful to them all, and at this moment it 
mattered little to them how it had come about that they were 
going to leave it. 

“ You don’t mean to go back to the High Street, father ? ” 
Julia, the elder of the girls, asked anxiously. 

“ No, my dear ; it will be a question to be settled between us 
where we will go, but I have decided to leave Abchester alto- 
gether. I feel that I require rest and quiet and shall give up 
business and go right out of it.” 

The girls both clapped their hands. 

“ And now for my second piece of news which will surprise 
you as much as the first. Your sister Mary is going to marry 
Mr. Hartington. The matter was settled in Paris, where they 
have both been shut up during the siege.” 

“ That is, indeed, good news,” Mrs. Brander said cordially, 
foreseeing at once the advantage of such a marriage. 

The girls took their cue from her, and professed great pleasure 
at the news which, however, was not altogether welcome to them. 


270 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Mary, whom they had never liked, was to be mistress of Fair- 
close, and was to gain all the advantages that they had expected 
but had never obtained. The thought was not pleasant, but it 
was speedily forgotten in the excitement of the other news. 
Her mother, however, seeing the pleasure that her husband un- 
mistakably felt at the thought of the marriage, was genuinely 
pleased. Not only might the connection be useful to the girls, 
but it might be invaluable in covering their retirement from 
Fairclose. There might be something more about that than her 
husband had said. At any rate this would silence all tongues 
and put an end to the vague anxiety that she had long felt. 
She had always liked Cuthbert, and had long ago cherished a 
faint hope that he might some day take to Mary. 

“ This all cames very suddenly upon us, Mr. Hartington. 
I suppose I ought to call you Cuthbert again, now.” 

“ It would certainly sound more like old times, Mrs. Brander.” 

“ Only think, my dear,” the lawyer put in, “ he proposed to 
Mary more than two years ago and she refused him. I suppose 
she never told you ? ” 

“ She never said a word on the subject,” Mrs. Brander said, 

almost indignantly. “ Why, it must have been before ” 

and she stopped. 

“ Before my short reign here as master, Mrs. Brander. Yes, 
I was down at Newquay sketching, when she was staying with 
her friend. Miss Tread wyn, and Mary was at the time too much 
occupied with the idea of raising womankind in the scale of 
humanity to think of taking up with a useless member of society 
like myself.” 

Mrs. Brander shook her head very gravely. 

“ It was a sad trouble to her father and myself,” she said ; 
“ I hope she has got over those ideas.” 

“ I think she has discovered that the world is too large for 
her to move,” Cuthbert replied, with a smile. “ At any rate she 
has undertaken the task of looking after me instead of reform- 
ing the world ; it may be as difficult, perhaps, but it sounds less 
arduous.” 

At lunch the girls were engaged in an animated discussion as 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


271 

to where they would like to move to, but Mrs. Brander put an 
end to it by saying — 

“ We shall have plenty of time to talk that over, girls — it 
must depend upon many things. Your father’s health will, of 
course, be the first consideration. At any rate, I shall set my 
face against London. So you can put that altogether out of 
your minds. An income that would be sufficient to establish 
one in a good position near a country or seaside town would be 
nothing in London. And now, Cuthbert, we want to hear a great 
deal more about our dear Mary. She writes so seldom, and of 
course she has been cut off for so long a time from us that we 
scarcely know what she is doing. In Germany she did not seem 
to be doing anything particular, but as she said in her letters, 
was studying the people and their language.” 

“ That is what she was doing in Paris — at least that is what 
she came to do, but the siege put a stop to her studies, and she 
devoted herself to the much more practical work of nursing the 
wounded.” 

“ Dear me, what an extraordinary girl she is,” Mrs. Brander 
said, much shocked. “ Surely there were plenty of women in 
Paris to nurse the wounded without her mixing herself up in 
such unpleasant work, of which she could know absolutely 
nothing.” 

“ She was a very good nurse, nevertheless,” Cuthbert said, 
quietly. “ She worked in the American ambulance, under an 
American doctor, the other nurses and assistants being all 
American or English.” 

“ How do you know she was a good nurse, Mr. Hartington .? ” 
Clara asked. 

“ Simply because I was one of her patients. Miss Brander. 
I joined one of the corps of Franc-tireurs, in which most of my 
student-friends enrolled themselves, and had the bad luck to 
get shot through the body in the sortie at Champigny, and as 
your sister was one of the nurses in the tent where I lay, I 
think that I am a pretty fair judge as to her powers of nursing. 
She was often there during the heaviest time for twenty-four 
hours at a stretch, and completely knocked herself up by her 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


2)1 

continued labors. At any rate I consider I owe my life in no 
small degree to her care.” 

“ I don’t think we ever understood Mary,” Mr. Brander said, 
in a more peremptory tone than the girls had heard him use since 
his seizure. “ There is no doubt that it was as much our fault as 
it was hers. I feel proud to hear that she has done such noble 
work. Mr. Hartington tells me,” he said, abruptly changing the 
conversation, “ that he has been working hard with the intention 
of making art his profession as it has long been his amusement. 
He seems to think that although he will, of course, be no longer 
obliged to look upon it as a necessary career, he intends at any 
rate to pursue it for a time.” 

“ That will be very interesting,” Mrs. Brander said, “ and it 
is quite the fashion in our days.” 

“ It is very nice when you haven’t to live by it,” Cuthbert 
said. “ When you are obliged to do that, and instead of paint- 
ing what you like, have to paint things that will sell, it is up-hill 
work, and none but men of real talent can push their way up 
out of the crowd. I shall be more happily situated, and shall 
therefore be able to devote an amount of care and time to a 
picture that would be impossible to a man who had his daily 
bread and cheese to earn by his brush. And now, Mr. Brander, 
we will have a few more words together and then I must be off. 
I shall most likely return to town this evening.” 

“ It must be for you to decide, Mr. Brander,” he went on, 
when they were alone in the study, “ how this news shall be 
broken to the public. I am quite ready to be guided entirely 
by your wishes in the matter.” 

“ The sooner the better. I would suggest that you should 
see Dr. Edwardes before you go up to town. If you will tell 
him what I told them in the next room, that it has been dis- 
covered that there is a flaw in the sale of Fairclose, and that 
as you are engaged to marry Mary, we have arrived at an amica- 
ble agreement under which you will return at once to Fairclose, 
while I intend to seek an entirely new scene and to retire alto- 
gether from business, there will be very little more needful. 
The news will spread like wildfire over the town and county. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


273 


After that I shall have very few questions asked me. None 
that I shall not be able to answer without difficulty. The state 
of my health will form an excuse for my cutting my farewells 
short. There will, no doubt, be some gossip and wonder as to 
how it has come about, but the county will be so pleased at 
your coming back again to your father’s place, that they will 
not be very curious as to how it occurred. I shall go off as 
quickly and as quietly as I can, after calling to say good-bye 
to those with whom I have been so long associated in the 
municipal business. 

“ It matters not where we go. I can take a furnished house 
at some seaside watering-place. The doctor will advise which 
is most likely to suit me, and we can then look round and set- 
tle on our future plans at our leisure. If I gain strength I think 
it likely enough we may travel on the Continent for a time. 
The girls have never been abroad and the prospect would go 
a long way towards reconciling them entirely to the change.” 

“ I think that a very good plan,” Cuthbert said. “ I was 
intending to call upon the doctor on my way down and he will 
at once set the ball rolling.” 

Mr. Brander went to fhe door where the fly had been wait- 
ing for two hours. 

“ God bless you ! ” he said. “ I cannot tell you how deeply 
grateful I am to you for your forbearance and generosity.” 

“ Don’t worry any more about it, Mr. Brander,” Cuthbert 
said, as he shook his hand, “ it has been a temporary change, 
and good rather than bad has come of it. Believe me, I shall 
put the matter out of my mind altogether.” 

“ Back again, Cuthbert,” the doctor said, when he was shown 
into the consulting-room. “ I was down just now at the station 
to see a man off, and the station-master said you had arrived 
by the 11-30 train, and that he had seen you drive off in a fly. 
I could hardly believe it, but as you are here in person I sup- 
pose that there can be no mistake about it. Of course you 
have been up to Brander’s again ? ” 

“ I have. Doctor, and for the last time. That is, the next 
time I shall go up it will be to take possession of Fairclose.” 

18 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUTE. 


274 

“ My dear lad, I am delighted,” the doctor said, shaking 
him heartily by the hand, “how has this miracle come about?” 

“ I cannot give you all the details, Doctor. I will simply 
give you the facts, which, by the way, I shall be glad if you 
will retail to your patients for public consumption,” and he 
then repeated the statement that he had arranged with Mr. 
Brander that he should make. 

“ And that is the tale you wish me to disseminate ? ” the 
doctor said, with a twinkle of his eye, when Cuthbert con- 
cluded. 

“ That is the statement. Doctor, and it has the merit of being, 
as far as it goes, true. What the nature of the illegality of this 
sale was, I am not at liberty to disclose, not even to you, but I 
have discovered that beyond all question it was irregular and 
invalid, and Brander and I have come to a perfectly amicable 
understanding. I may tell you that to prevent the trouble in- 
separable even from a friendly lawsuit he assigns the property 
to me as Mary’s dowry, and as a sort of recognition of the fact 
that he acted without sufficient care in advising my father to 
take those shares in the bank. Thus all necessity for the re- 
opening of bygone events will be obviated.” 

“ A very sensible way, lad. You will understand, of course, 
that I know enough of Jeremiah to be quite sure that he would 
not relinquish a fine property if he had a leg to stand upon. 
However, that is no business of mine, and I have no doubt 
that the fact that he is going to be your father-in-law, has had 
no small influence in bringing about this very admirable ar- 
rangement. Of course the matter will make a good deal of talk, 
but these things soon die out, and the county will welcome you 
back too heartily to care how your return has been brought 
about. You can rely upon my action in the part of town-crier, 
and I am sure to some of my patients the flutter of excitement 
the news will occasion will do a great deal more good than 
any medicine I could give them. Of course you are going to 
stay here ? ” 

“ Only to dinner. Doctor. I shall run up to town again this 
evening.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


275 


CHAPTER XXL 

It was on the last day of March that Cuthbert Hartington 
reached Paris. During the six weeks that had elapsed since he 
had left it many events had taken place. He himself had gone 
away a comparatively poor man, and returned in the possession 
of the estates inherited from his father, unimpaired save by the 
mortgage given upon them by Mr. Brander. He had succeeded 
beyond his hopes ; and having obtained unlooked-for proofs of 
the fraud that had been practised, had been able to obtain res- 
titution — which was to him the most important point — and all 
had been done without the slightest publicity. In Paris, the 
danger he had foreseen had culminated in the Commune. The 
battalions of National Guards from Montmartre and Belleville 
had risen against the Provisional Government ; the troops had 
fraternized with them and their generals had been murdered 
in cold blood. 

The National Guards of the business quarters had for a time 
held aloof, but, in the absence of support from without and 
being enormously outnumbered, they were powerless, and the 
extreme party were now in absolute possession of the city. M. 
Thiers and the Assembly at Versailles had so far been unable 
to take any steps to reduce the revolted capital. Such troops 
as had been hastily collected could not be relied upon to act 
and it seemed probable that the National Guards and Paris 
would, in a short time, take the offensive and obtain possession 
of Versailles, in which case the flame of insurrection would 
spread at once to all the great towns of France, and the horrors 
of the Terror might be repeated. 

The line of railway to Paris was still open, for upon the Com- 
munists preparing to cut off all communications, the Germans, 
still in great force near the town, pending the carrying out of 
the terms of the treaty of peace, threatened to enter Paris were 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


276 

such a step taken. A vast emigration had taken place among 
the middle classes, and over fifty thousand persons had left 
Paris. So far the Communists had abstained from excesses, 
and from outrage upon peaceable citizens ; had it been other- 
wise, Cuthbert would have returned to fetch Mary away at once. 
Her letters to him, however, had assured him that there was no 
cause whatever for uneasiness about her, and that everything 
was going on precisely as it had done, during the siege by the 
Germans. He had been anxious that she should, if possible, 
remain for the present in Paris, for he did not wish her to return 
to her family, and had made up his mind that if it became ab- 
solutely necessary for her to leave Paris she should arrange 
to go straight down to Newquay and stay there with her 
friends. 

As he alighted from the carriage at the Northern Railway 
Station he found the place occupied by National Guards. There 
was no semblance of discipline among them; they smoked, 
lounged about, scowled at the few passengers who arrived, or 
slept upon the benches, wrapt in their blankets. There were 
none of the usual hotel omnibuses outside and but one or two 
fiacres ; hailing one of these he was driven to his lodgings. He 
was greeted by the concierge with surprise and pleasure. 

“ So monsieur has come back. We did not expect you, though 
Monsieur Caillard, who comes here every day, told us that you 
would be sure to be back again in spite of the Reds. Ah, mon- 
sieur, what horror to think that after all Paris has gone through, 
these monsters should have become masters of the city ! It would 
have been a thousand times better to have had the Prussians 
here, they would have kept order, and those wild beasts of Mont- 
martre would not have dared even to have murmured. You 
have heard how they shot down peaceful citizens in the Rue de 
la Paix ? Have you come to stay, monsieur ? ” 

“ For a time, anyhow ; ” and taking the key of his rooms Cuth- 
bert carried up his pormanteau, and then at once came down 
and drove to Madame Michaud’s. 

Mary was half expecting him, for in his last letter to her he 
had told her he hoped to arrive in Paris that evening. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


277 

I have been horribly anxious about you, Mary,” he said, 
after the first greeting. 

“ There was no occasion for your being so,” she replied, every- 
thing is pefectly quiet here, though from what they say there 
may be fighting any day, but if there is it will be outside the 
walls and will not affect us here.” 

“ I don’t think there will be much fighting,” he said ; “ if the 
troops fraternize with the Communists there’s an end of the 
business, all France will join them, and we shall have the Reign 
of Terror over again, though they will not venture upon any 
excesses here in Paris, for, fortunately, the Germans are still 
within gunshot, and they would have the hearty approval of all 
Europe in marching in here, and stamping the whole thing out. 
If the troops, on the other hand, prove faithful, I feel sure, 
from what I saw of the Belleville battalions, that there will be 
very little fighting outside the walls. They may defend Paris for 
a time, and perhaps bravely, for they will know they are fight- 
ing with ropes round their necks, and the veriest cur will fight 
when cornered. Your people here are not thinking of leaving, 
I hope ? ” 

“ No, and they could not now if they wanted ; the Commune 
has put a stop to emigration, and though the trains still run 
once or twice a day, they go out- as empty as they come in. 
Have you got through your business ? ” she asked, with a shade 
of anxiety. 

“Yes, dear, and most satisfactorily; everything has been 
arranged in the happiest way. I unexpectedly obtained proofs 
that the sale of Fairclose was altogether irregular, and indeed, 
invalid. I have seen your father, who at once, upon my laying 
the proofs before him, recognized the position. Our arrange- 
ment has been a perfectly amicable one. He is going to retire 
altogether from business, and will probably take up his resi- 
dence at some seaside place where there is a bracing climate. 
The doctor recommends Scarborough, for I may tell you that 
he has had a slight stroke of apoplexy, and is eager himself for 
rest and quiet. Fairclose and the estate comes back to me, 
nominally as your dowry, and with the exception that there is a 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


278 

mortgage on it for £ 20 , 000 ^ I shall be exactly in the same posi- 
tion that I was on the day my father died. I may say that your 
mother and the girls are delighted with the arrangement, for, 
somehow, they have not been received as cordially as they had 
expected in the county — owing of course to a foolish prejudice 
arising from your father’s connection with the bank, whose 
failure hit everyone heavily — and they are, in consequence, very 
pleased indeed at the prospect of moving away altogether.” 

Mary’s forehead was puckered up in little wrinkles of per- 
plexity as she listened. “ I am glad of course, very glad, that 
you have got Fairclose back,” she said, “ though it all seems 
very strange to me — is that all that I am to know, Cuthbert ? ” 

“ That is all it is necessary that you should know, Mary, and 
no one else will know any more. Your father’s illness and the 
doctor’s injunctions that he should retire from business altogether 
and settle in some place with a mild climate, is an ample reason 
for his leaving Fairclose, and your engagement to me, and my 
past connection with the place are equally valid reasons why I 
should be his successor there. I do not say, Mary, that there 
may not have been other causes which have operated to bring 
about this result, but into these there is no need, whatever, for 
us to enter. Be contented, dear, to know that all has turned 
out in the best possible way, that I have recovered Fairclose, 
that your family are all very pleased at the prospect of leaving 
it, and in that fact the matter ends happily for everyone.” 

“ I lunched at the old place only yesterday,” he went on lightly, 
“ and the girls were in full discussion as to where they should 
go. Your father is picking up his strength fast, and with rest 
and quiet, will, I hope, soon be himself again. I expect, be- 
tween ourselves, that he will be all the better for getting away 
from that work in the town, with its lunches and dinners. The 
Doctor told me that he had warned him that he was too fond 
of good living, specially as he took no exercise. Now that he 
will be free from the office, and from all that corporation busi- 
ness, he will no doubt walk a good deal more than he has done 
for many years and live more simply, and as the doctor told 
me yesterday, the chances are that he will have no recurrence 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


279 


of his attack. I may tell you that from a conversation I had 
with him I learned that your father will still draw a very com- 
fortable income from the business, and will have amply sufficient 
to live in very good style at Scarborough.’’ 

The fact that Cuthbert had lunched at Fairclose did more to 
soothe Mary’s anxiety than anything else he had said. It 
seemed a proof that however this strange change had come about, 
an amicable feeling existed between Cuthbert and her father, 
and when he wound up with “ Are you contented, dear ? ” she 
looked up at him with tears in her eyes. 

“ More than contented, Cuthbert. I have been worrying my- 
self greatly while you have been away, and I never thought that 
it would end as happily as this. I know, dear, that you have 
concealed a great deal from me, but I am contented to know 
no more than that. I am as sure as if you had told me that 
you have brought all these things about in this friendly way for 
my sake. And now,” she said after a pause, “ what are your 
plans for yourself ? ” 

“You mean for us, Mary. Well, dear, my plan is that we 
shall wait on here and see how things turn out. I don’t want 
to go back to England till all these arrangements are carried 
out. I don’t intend to have to go to Scarborough to marry you, 
and I think it will be vastly better for us to be married quietly 
here as soon as the chaplain at the embassy returns, which, of 
course, he will do directly these troubles are over. My present 
idea is, that I shall let the house at Fairclose, or shut it up if I 
cannot let it, and let the rents of the property go to paying off 
this mortgage, and I intend to take a modest little place near 
London, to live on our joint income, and to work hard until 
Fairclose is clear of this incumbrance.” 

“ That is right, Cuthbert. I have been wondering ever since 
you told me you were to have Fairclose again, if you would 
give up painting, and hoping that you would still go on with it. 
I should so like you to win a name for yourself as a great 
painter.” 

Cuthbert laughed. “ My dear child, you are jumping a great 
deal too fast at conclusions. I am not yet out from school. I 


28 o 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


have painted my two first pictures, which you like, principally 
because your face is in one of them, but that is a short step to- 
wards becoming a great artist. You are like a young lady in 
love with a curate, and therefore convinced that some day he 
will be Archbishop of Canterbury, and with almost equally good 
foundation ; however, I shall do my best, and as I shall still 
have a strong motive for work, and shall have you to spur me 
on I hope I may make a modest success.” 

“ I am sure you will, and more than that,” she said, warmly ; 
“ if not,” she added, with a saucy laugh, “ I think you might as 
well give it up altogether ; a modest success means mediocrity, 
and that is hateful, and I am sure you yourself would be no 
more satisfied with it than I should.” 

“ Well, I will go on for a bit and see. I agree with you, that 
a thing is not worth doing unless it is done well, but I won’t 
come to any final decision for another year or two. Now it is 
past ten o’clock, and I must be going.” 

“ When will you come ? To-morrow ? ” 

“ I will come at three o’clock. Have your things on by that 
time, and we will go for a ramble.” 

Rend Caillard came into Cuthbert’s room at nine o’clock the 
next morning. 

“ I came round yesterday evening, Cuthbert, and heard from 
the concierge that you had arrived and had gone out again. 
As she said you had driven off in a fiacre, it was evidently of 
no use waiting. I thought I would come down and catch you 
the first thing this morning. You look well and strong again, 
your native air evidently suits you.” 

“ I feel quite well again, though not quite so strong. So 
things have turned out just as I anticipated, and the Reds are 
the masters of Paris.” 

Rend shrugged his shoulders. “ It is disgusting,” he said. 
‘‘ It does not trouble us much, we have nothing to lose but our 
heads, and as these scoundrels would gain nothing by cutting 
them off, I suppose we shall be allowed to go our own way.” 

“ Is the studio open again ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, and we are all hard at work, that is to say, the few 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


281 


that remain of us. Goudd has been fidgeting for you to come 
back. He has asked several times whether I have news of you, 
and if I was sure you had not left Paris forever. I know he 
will be delighted when I tell him that you have returned ; still 
more so if you take the news yourself.” 

“ I suppose Minette has resumed her duties as model ? ” 

“Not she,” Rene said scornfully, “she is one of the 
priestesses of the Commune. She rides about on horseback 
with a red flag and sash. Sometimes she goes at the head of 
a battalion, sometimes she rides about with the leaders. She 
is in earnest but she is in earnest theatrically, and that fool, 
Dampierre, is as bad as she is.” 

“ What ! Has he joined the Commune ? ” 

“ Joined, do you say } Why, he is one of its leaders. He 
plays the part of La Fayette, in the drama, harangues the 
National Guards, assures them of the sympathy of America, 
calls upon them to defend the freedom they have won by their 
lives and to crush back their oppressors, as his countrymen 
crushed their British tyrants. Of course it is all Minette’s do- 
ing ; he is as mad as she is. I can assure you that he is quite 
a popular hero among the Reds, and they would have appointed 
him a general if he had chosen to accept it, but he said that he 
considered himself as the representative of the great Republic 
across the sea, that he would accept no office, but would fight 
as a simple volunteer. He, too, goes about on horseback, with 
a red scarf, and when you see Minette you may be sure that he 
is not far off.” 

“ Without absolutely considering Dampierre to be a fool, I 
have always regarded him as being, well, not mad, but different 
to other people. His alternate fits of idleness and hard work, 
his infatuation for Minette, his irritation at the most trifling 
jokes, and the moody state into which he often fell, all seem to 
show as the Scots say, ‘ a bee in his bonnet,’ and I can quite 
fancy the excitement of the times, and his infatuation for that 
woman may have worked him up to a point much more nearly 
approaching madness than before. I am very sorry. Rend, for 
there was a good deal to like about him, he was a gentleman 


282 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


and a chivalrous one. In Minette he saw not a clever model, 
but a peerless woman, and was carried away by enthusiasm, 
which is, I think, perfectly real ; she is in her true element now, 
and is, I should say, for once not acting. Well, it is a bad 
business. If the Commune triumphs, as I own that it seems 
likely enough, it will do, he will in time become disgusted with 
the adventurers and ambitious scoundrels by whom he is sur- 
rounded, and will, like the Girondists, be among the first victims 
of the wild beasts he has helped to bring into existence. If the 
troops prove faithful, the Commune will be crushed, and all those 
who have made themselves conspicuous are likely to have but a 
short shrift of it when martial law is established. Well, Rend 
as there is nothing that can be done in the matter, it is of no 
use troubling about it. None of the others have gone that way, 
I suppose.” 

“ Of course not,” Rend exclaimed indignantly. “ You don’t 
suppose that after the murder of the generals any decent French- 
man would join such a cause, even if he were favorable to its 
theories. Morbleu ! Although I hate tyrants I should be 
tempted to take up a rifle and go out and defend them were they 
menaced by such scum as this. It is not even as it was before ; 
then it was the middle class who made the Revolution, and there 
was at least much that was noble in their aims, but these creat- 
ures who creep out from their slums like a host of obnoxious 
beasts animated sorely by hatred for all around them, and by a 
lust for plunder and blood, they fill one with loathing and dis- 
gust. There is not among them, save Dampierre, a single man 
of birth and education, if only perhaps you except Rochefort. 
There are plenty of Marats, but certainly no Mirabeau. 

“ No, no, Cuthbert, we of the studio maybe wild and thought- 
less. We live gayly and do not trouble for the morrow, but we 
are not altogether fools ; and even were there nothing else to 
unite us against the Commune, the squalor and wretchedness, 
the ugliness and vice, the brutal coarseness, and the foul lan- 
guage of these ruffians would band us together as artists against 
them. Now, enough of Paris, what have you been doing in 
England, besides recovering your health ? ” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


283 

“ I have been recovering a fortune, too, Rene. A compli- 
cated question concerning some property that would, in the ordi- 
nary course of things, have come to me has now been decided 
in my favor.” 

“ I congratulate you,” Ren^ said, “ but you will not give up 
art, I hope ? ” 

“ No, I intend to stick to that, Rene. You see I was not 
altogether dependent on it before, so that circumstances, are not 
much changed.” 

“ You finished your pictures before you went away, did you 
not ? The temptation to have a peep at them has been very 
strong, but I have resisted nobly — it was heroic, was it not ? ” 

“ It must have been. Yes, I put the finishing touches to 
them before I went away, and now I will show them to you 
Ren^ ; it is the least I can do after all your kindness. Now go 
and look out of the window until I fix the easels in a good light, 
I want your first impressions to be favorable. There,” after 
a pause, “ the curtain is drawn up and the show has begun.” 
He spoke lightly, but there was an undertone of anxiety in his 
voice. Hitherto no one but Mary had seen them, and her 
opinion upon the subject of art was of little value. He, him- 
self, believed that the work was good, but yet felt that vague 
dissatisfaction and doubt whether it might not have been a 
good deal better, that most artists entertain as to their own work. 
In the school Rent’s opinion was always sought for eagerly ; 
there were others who painted better, but none whose feeling 
of art was more true or whose critical instinct keener. 

Rene looked at the pictures for a minute or two in silence, 
then he turned to Cuthbert and took one of his hands in his 
own. “ My dear friend,” he said, “ it is as I expected. I always 
said that you had genius, real genius, and it is true ; I con- 
gratulate you, my dear friend. If it were not that I know 
you English object to be embraced, I should do so, but you 
are cold and do not like a show of feeling. These pictures will 
place you well in the second rank ; in another year or two you 
will climb into the first. They will be hung on the line, that 
goes without saying. They are charming, they are admirable, 


284 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


and to think that you are still at the school. I might paint all 
my life and I should never turn out two such canvases ; and it 
is a sin that one who can paint like that should expose himself 
to be shot at by Prussians. Now, do you sit down and let me 
look at them.” 

“ Do so, Rend, and please remember that I want not praise, 
but honest criticism ; I know they have defects, but I want you 
to point them out to me, for while I feel that they might be 
improved, I have my own ideas so strongly in my head, that I 
cannot see where the faults are as you can. Remember, you 
can’t be too severe, and if possible to do so, without entirely hav- 
ing to repaint them, I will try to carry out your suggestions.” 

Rene produced a pipe, filled and lighted it, then placed a 
chair so that he could sit across it and lean upon the back. 
He sat for upwards of a quarter of an hour puffing out clouds 
of tobacco-smoke without speaking. 

“ You mean what you say, Cuthbert ? ” he said at last. “ Very 
well, I will take the bright one first. As to the figure I have 
nothing to say ; the effect of the light falling on her head and 
face is charming ; the dress is perhaps a little stiff, it would 
have been bettered if relieved by some light lace or gauze, but 
we will let that pass ; it is a portrait and a good one. It is 
your pretty nurse at the Ambulance. Am I to congratulate 
you there too ? ” 

Cuthbert nodded. 

“ I thought so,” Rend went on, without moving his gaze from 
the pictures, “ and will congratulate you presently. The back- 
ground of the figure is the one weak point of the picture, that, 
too, like the portrait, I doubt not, was taken from reality, for 
with your artistic feeling you would never have placed that bare 
wall behind the figure. You have tried by the shadows from the 
vine above to soften it, and you have done all you could in that 
way, but nothing could really avail. You want a vine to cover 
that wall. It should be thrown into deep cool shadow, with a 
touch of sunlight here and there, streaming upon it, but less 
than you now have falling on the wall. As it is now, the cool 
gray of the dress is not sufficiently thrown up, it, like the wail, 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 285 

is in shade except where the sun touches the head and face ; 
but, with a dark cool green, somewhat undefined, and not too 
much broken up by the forms of the foliage, the figure would 
be thrown forward, although still remaining in the shade, and 
I am sure the picture would gain at once in strength and re- 
pose. Now, as to the other. It is almost painfully sombre, it 
wants relief. It expresses grief and hopelessness ; that is good ; 
but it also expresses despair, that is painful ; one does not 
feel quite sure that the young woman is not about to throw her- 
self into the sea. Now, if you were to make a gleam of watery 
sunshine break through a rift in the cloud, lighting up a small 
patch of foam and breaker, it would be a relief ; if you could 
arrange it so that the head should stand up against it, it would 
add greatly to the effect. What do you think ? ” he asked, 
breaking off suddenly and turning to Cuthbert. 

“ You are right in both instances. Rend. Both the back- 
grounds are from sketches I made at the time; the veranda in 
the one case, and the sea and sky and rock in the other are as 
I saw them, and it did not occur to me to change them. Yes, 
you are a thousand times right. I see now why I was discon« 
tented with them, and the changes you suggest will be invalu- 
able. Of course, in the sea-scene the light will be ill-defined, it 
will make its way through a thin layer of cloud, and will con- 
trast just as strongly with the bright warm sunshine on the 
other picture, as does tbe unbroken darkness. There is noth- 
ing else that you can suggest, Rene ? ” 

“ No, and I almost wish that I had not made those sugges- 
tions, the pictures are so good that I am frightened, lest you 
should spoil them by a single touch of the brush.” 

‘'I have no fear of that,Rene, I am sure of the dark picture, 
and I hope I can manage the other, but if I fail I can but 
paint the wall in again. I will begin at once. I suppose you 
are going round to Goude’s ; tell him that I am back, and will 
come round this evening after dinner. Ask all the others to 
come here to supper at ten ; thank goodness we shall have a 
decent feed this time.” 

Directly Rene had left, Cuthbert set to work with ardor. 


286 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


He felt that Rene had hit upon the weak spots that he had 
felt and yet failed to recognize. In four hours the sea-scape 
was finished, and as he stepped back into the window to look 
at it, he felt that the ray of misty light showing rather on the 
water than on the air, had effected wonders, and added im- 
mensely to the poetry of the picture. 

“ I have only just time to change, and get there in time,” he 
said, with a very unlover-like tone of regret, as he hastily threw 
off his painting blouse, ate a piece of bread left over from 
breakfast, and drank a glass of wine. He glanced many times 
at the picture. 

“ Curious,” he muttered, “ how blind men are to their own 
work. I can detect a weak point in another man’s work in a 
moment, and yet, though I felt that something was wrong, I 
could not see what it was in my own. If I succeed as well 
with the other as I have done with this I shall be satisfied in- 
deed.” 

“ You are a quarter of an hour late, sir,” Mary said, hold- 
ing up her finger in reproof as he entered. “ The idea of keep- 
ing me waiting, the very first time after our engagement. I 
tremble when I look forward to the future.” 

“ I have been painting, Mary, and when one is painting one 
forgets how time flies ; but I feel greatly ashamed of myself, 
and am deeply contrite.” 

“You don’t look contrite at all, Cuthbert. Not one bit.” 

“ Well, I will not press for forgiveness now, I think when you 
see what I have been doing you will overlook the offence.” 

“ What have you been doing ? I thought you told me that 
you had quite finished the two pictures, the day you came to 
say good-bye before you started for Brussels.” 

“ Rene has been criticising them and has shown me where 
I committed two egregious blunders.” 

“ Then I think it was very impertinent of him,” Mary said in 
a tone of vexation. “ I am sure nothing could have been nicer 
than they were even when I saw them, I am certain there were 
no blunders in them, and I don’t see how they could be im- 
proved,” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


287 

“ Wait until you see them again, Mary. I altered one this 
morning, but the other will take me three or four days steady 
work. I am not so sure of success there, but if you don’t like 
it when you see it, I promise you that I will restore it to its 
former condition, now let us be olf ; if I am not mistaken there 
is something going on, I saw several battalions of National 
Guards marching through the streets ; and there is a report 
that 50,000 men are to march against Versailles. We may as 
well see them start, it may turn out to be an historic event.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

The march against Versailles did not take place on the first 
of April, although the Communists had every reason to believe 
that they would meet with no opposition, as on the previous 
night two regiments of the army, forming the advanced guard 
between Versailles and Paris, came in, together with a battery 
of artillery, and declared for the Commune. The next morning 
Cuthbert went up at nine o’clock, as he had arranged to take 
Mary out early, and to work in the afternoon. Just as he 
reached the house he heard a cannon-shot. 

“ Hurry on your things,” he said as he met her, “ a gun has 
just fired ; it is the first in the Civil War ; perhaps the National 
Guard are starting against Versailles ; at any rate it will be 
worth seeing.” 

The girl was ready in two or three minutes, and they walked 
briskly to the Arc de Triomphe. As they did so they could 
hear not only the boom of cannon, but the distant firing of 
musketry. Around the Arch a number of people were gathered, 
looking down the long broad avenue running from it through 
the Porte Maillot, and then over the Bridge of Neuilly to the 
column of Courbeil. Heavy firing was going on near the bridge, 
upon the banks of the river, and away beyond it to the right. 

“ That firing means that France is saved from the horrors of 
another red Revolution, Mary,” Cuthbert said. “ It shows that 
some of the troops at least are loyal, and in these matters ex- 


288 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


ample is everything. There was a report that Charrette’s Zou- 
aves and the gendarmes have been placed at the outposts, and 
if the report is true, it was a wise step, indeed, for McMahon to 
take, for both could be relied upon ; and now fighting has begun, 
there is hope that the troops behind will stand firm.” 

“ Why should they, Cuthbert ? ” 

“ Some of the shots from this side are sure to fall among 
them, and if a few are killed and wounded the rest will get 
angry, and all idea of fraternizing with the men who are firing 
on them will be at an end. I should like to see how that crowd 
of National Guards are behaving.” 

“ Shall we go down and look, Cuthbert. See, there is an 
omnibus going down the hill, so I don’t suppose there can be 
much danger.” 

“ I don’t think that there is any danger at present, Mary ; 
the balls will hardly come so far, but if the troops open fire with 
cannon, they will send shell right up this avenue.” 

“ Would you go by yourself if I were not here, Cuthbert ? ” 

“ Well, I certainly should, but that is no reason why I should 
go with you.” 

“ I can see women looking out of the windows,” she said, 
“ so we will go down together, Cuthbert. We had the German 
shell falling near us while the siege was going on, and things 
went on just as usual.” 

“ Come on then, dear ; at any rate it will be only field-guns 
and not heavy siege artillery, and I dare say we can get into 
one of the houses and look out from them ; a twelve-pounder 
would scarcely do much harm to one of these solid stone build- 
ings.” 

They went quietly down the road. No whiz of bullet or crash 
of shell was heard, and without interruption they continued their 
course until they arrived near the gate. Near it were two bat- 
talions of the National Guard, who were in a state of utter dis- 
order. Some of the men were quietly walking away with their 
rifles slung behind them, in spite of a line of sentries placed 
across the road and the efforts of their officers. Cuthbert 
questioned some of the men, as they came along, as to what had 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


289 

happened, but the most contradictory answers were given. They 
had been fired upon from Fort Valerien ; they had been attacked 
from Courbevoie ; they had been betrayed ; they had been sent 
out without any cannon : ammunition was short ; they were not 
going to stay to be shot down ; they were going to the Hotel de 
Ville to turn out the traitors who had sent them out without a 
proper supply of ammunition. That they had some ammuni- 
tion was evident from the fact that several muskets went off 
accidentally, the result of nervousness on the part of those that 
held them. 

“ We won’t stay here to risk being shot by these cowardly 
fools,” Cuthbert said, “let us get into one of the houses.” 

They went back a short distance, and Cuthbert spoke to a 
man standing at his door. “ This lady and myself are English,” 
he said, “ would you allow us to go up and stand at one of the 
windows to see what is going on ? ” 

The request was at once acceded to, and they were soon posted 
at a window on the fifth floor. 

“ Look at them,” Cuthbert said in disgust, “ these are the 
heroes who clamored to go out and destroy the Germans.” 

The scene below was certainly singular — the bugles and drums 
sounded the assembly and beat the rappel alternately, but the 
men paid not the slightest attention to the call, but continued 
to slink away until the drummers and buglers remained alone. 
Of the two battalions, some fifty men posted at the loop-holes 
of the crenelated wall by the gate remained ; the rest had melted 
away. From the balcony at the window a fine view was obtained 
across the country. A heavy musket-fire was still maintained 
along the river-side, and there was a continuous roll of musketry 
at Courbevoie, where, as one of the National Guard had told 
them, a battalion which occupied the barracks there had been 
cut off by the advance of the troops. Artillery and musketry 
were both at work there, but elsewhere there was no artillery 
fire. 

Close to the bridge at Neuilly the struggle was maintained for 
a time, and presently a column of troops were seen advancing 
against the bridge. As it did so the firing there ceased at once, 

19 


290 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


and it was soon evident that the troops had gained the position. 
Numbers of National Guards soon came trooping in at the gate. 
A very few remained there ; the rest, without waiting for orders, 
hurried on into Paris. A dark group now appeared on the road 
leading up to Courbeil ; there was a white pulf of smoke and a 
shell exploded a hundred yards on the other side of the gate. 
A steady fire was now kept up by two guns, the greater part of 
the shells exploded beyond the outer works ; but several came 
up the avenue, two of them striking houses, and others exploding 
in the roadway. Each time when the whistle of a shell was 
heard approaching, Cuthbert drew Mary back from the balcony 
into the room. 

“ I fancy,” he said, “ the troops have an idea that there are 
masses of the Communists assembled near the gates in readi- 
ness for a sortie, and they are firing to prevent their coming 
out, until they have fortified the bridge and the other points 
they have occupied.” 

The firing continued for some time. At other windows the 
inhabitants were watching the conflict, and Cuthbert pointed 
out, to Mary’s great amusement, the precautions that some of 
them were taking to ensure their personal safety. One woman 
had drawn down the Venetian blinds, and was looking between 
them, another was peering out with a pillow held over her head. 
The few National Guards who remained at their post were men 
of courage, for they showed no signs of flinching even when 
shells exploded within a fewyards of the position they occupied. 
Presently there was a sound of wheels, and two four-pounder 
guns were brought up and placed one on each side of the gate 
to sweep the approaches. 

Between one and two o’clock several battalions of National 
Guards came leisurely up, piled their arms and sat down under 
shelter of the wall. It was evident they had no idea of making 
a sortie, but had been brought up to defend the gate in case it 
was attacked. Soon after their arrival, a party that had re- 
mained near the river returned and it was clear that at least a 
portion of the troops had proved faithless, for with them were 
forty or fifty soldiers, who had come over during the fight. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


291 


They were disarmed and then escorted into the town, where, as 
Cuthbert afterwards learned, they were received with enthusi- 
asm by the mob. 

“ It is evident that there is no idea of any attempt being 
made to recapture the bridge at present, Mary ; I don’t know 
how you feel but I am getting desperately hungry, so I think 
we may as well be going back. I should like to see what is 
going on in the city. Will you come with me ? I have no 
doubt we shall be able to get a voiture up at the arch, and we 
can have lunch there.” 

Mary was as anxious to see what is going on as he was, and 
in a quarter of an hour they alighted in the Rue Rivoli. As 
yet the population had heard but vague reports that fighting 
was going on, and matters were comparatively quiet, for so many 
rumors had pervaded the town during the last few days, that 
they were not generally believed. Accordingly, after lunch, 
Cuthbert took Mary home in a fiacre. 

“ I have been quite alarmed about you, my dear, where have 
you been ? ” Madame Michaud said as they entered. 

“ We have been seeing the fighting, madame, and the Reds 
have been beaten.” 

“ I have heard all sorts of stories about it, but most of them 
say that the Versailles people got the worst of it.” 

“ Then the stories were not true,” Mary said, “ most of the 
National Guard wouldn’t fight at all, and the regiments all 
broke away and went into Paris without firing a shot, the troops 
have taken the bridge of Neuilly.” 

“ The good God be thanked,” Madame Michaud said piously, 
“ my husband was afraid the troops would not fight, and that 
we were going to have terrible times ; but there is a hope now, 
that the Commune will be put down.” 

“ Every hope, madame,” Cuthbert said. “ I was sure this 
scum of Paris would not fight if the troops would do so. They 
have too much regard for their worthless skins. It may be 
some time before McMahon can get a force together sufficient 
to take Paris, but sooner or later he will do so, though it will 
be a serious business with the forts all in the hands oi the 


292 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Communists. If they had but handed over one or two of the 
forts to the gendarmes, or kept a company or two of sailors 
there, there would have been a line by which the troops could 
have approached the town, as it is they will have to bring up 
siege-guns and silence Issy and Vanves before much can be 
done.” 

An hour later Monsieur Michaud arrived ; he too had been 
in the city and was in ignorance of what had taken place dur- 
ing the morning. 

“ That accounts for it,” he said, “ we are all ordered to be 
under arms at eight o’clock this evening.” 

“ But you will not go ? ” his wife exclaimed anxiously. 

“ But I must go, my dear. I have no desire to be shot, and 
I think there is much more fear of my being shot, if I don’t an- 
swer to the call of my name than there will be if I do. In the 
first place, we may not go out beyond the wall, in the second 
place, if there is I may see a chance of running away, for mind 
you, though I hope I should have fought as bravely as others if 
the Germans had come, I do not feel myself called upon to 
fight against Frenchmen and in a cause I hate.” 

“ You will find yourself in good company anyhow. Monsieur 
Michaud,” Cuthbert laughed. “ We have seen nineteen hun- 
dred and fifty men out of two thousand march off without firing 
a shot to-day.” 

“ So much the better, monsieur, four out of five of the 
National Guards hate it all as much as I do. Will you dine with 
us to-day, monsieur, and then we can go down together after- 
wards.” 

Cuthbert accepted the invitation willingly. “Yes, you can 
come down with us, Mary,” he went on, in answer to a look of 
appeal from her. “ I will bring her back safely, Madame 
Michaud, the sight will be well worth seeing. Before I go I will 
have a look round and see if I can get a bed for the night, it is 
a long way out from my lodgings and I should like to be out 
here by daylight, for if they mean to march on Versailles they 
are sure to start as soon as it is light.” 

“ We have a spare room,” Madame Michaud said, “ and it is 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


293 


quite at your disposal. It will be doing us a kindness if you 
will accept it, for when my husband is away I always feel nerv- 
ous without a man in the house, and as it is but ten minutes’ 
walk from here to the Arc de Triomphe, you will be on the 
spot, and indeed from the roof of this house you can obtain a 
view all over the country.” 

A great change had taken place in the appearance of Paris 
when they went down in the evening, the town was in a state 
of the wildest excitement, everywhere drums were beating 
and trumpets sounding, everywhere National Guards muster- 
ing. The streets were crowded, the most violent language 
uttered by the lower classes, and threats of all kinds poured out 
against the ‘butchers of Versailles.’ On the walls were red 
placards issued by the Commune and headed “ Men of Paris. 
The butchers of Versailles are slaughtering your brethren ! ! ! ” 

“ As a rule the brethren decline to be slaughtered, Mary,” 
Cuthbert said as they read the proclamation. “You see, if the 
troops fire they are butchers, if the National Guards fire they 
are heroes. Considering that Paris has ten armed men to every 
one McMahon has got, even if all the troops could be relied 
upon, the Parisians must indeed be of a mild temper if they 
submit to be butchered.” 

Monsieur Michaud now left them to take his place in the 
ranks of his battalion. It was not long before the National 
Guards were in motion, and for hours columns of troops moved 
up the Champs Elysees. The Rue Rivoli was actually choked 
with the men ; the mob shouted “ Vive la Commune ” until 
they were hoarse, and the battalions from the working quarters 
lustily sang the chorus of the Marseillaise. 

At ten o’clock Cuthbert and Mary arrived at the Arc de 
Triomphe on their way back. Along the whole line from the 
Tuileries the National Guard were bivouacked. The arms 
were piled down the centre of the road, and many of the men 
had already wrapped themselves in their blankets and lain 
down to sleep with their heads on their knapsacks. The wine- 
shops in the neighborhood were all crowded, and it was evident 
that many of the men had determined to keep it up all night. 


294 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Madame Michaud had coffee ready for them on their return, 
and after drinking it they went to their rooms, Mary being com- 
pletely tired out with the fatigue and excitement of the day. 
At five o’clock Cuthbert was up ; he had told Mary the night 
before that he would return for her at eight. On arriving at 
the Arc de Triomphe he found the National Guards pouring 
down the avenue to the Fort Maillot. Three heavy columns 
were marching along the roads which converged at the Bridge 
of Neuilly. Here Cuthbert expected a desperate struggle, but 
a few shots only were fired, and then a small body of troops 
covered by a party of skirmishers, retired up the hill, and then 
turning off made their way towards Fort Valerien. 

The force was evidently insufficient to hold the bridge 
against the masses of revolutionists advancing against it, and 
the real resistance to the forces of the Commune would com- 
mence further back. Crossing the bridge the National Guard 
spread out to the right and left and mounted the hill, as they 
did so some eighteen-pounder guns which had been the day 
before mounted on the Fort, opened fire on the bridge, and for 
a time the forward movement ceased, and the regiment on their 
way down towards the gate were halted. Cuthbert chatted for 
some time with one of the officers and learnt from him that this 
was not the real point of attack, 

“ It is from the other side of the river that the great stroke 
against the Versaillaise will be struck,” he said, “ a hundred 
and fifty thousand National Guards advanced on that side ; they 
will cross the heights of Meudon, and move straight to Ver- 
sailles. We have but some twenty-five thousand here, and 
shall advance as soon as the others have attacked Meudon.” 

In an hour the forward movement had again commenced, a 
heavy column poured across the bridge, the firing from Valerien 
having now ceased. Cuthbert watched the black mass advanc- 
ing up the slope towards Courbeil. It was not until they reached 
the top of the slope that Valerien suddenly opened fire. Puff 
after puff of white smoke darted out from its crest in quick 
succession, the shells bursting in and around the heavy column. 
In a moment its character changed ; it had been literally cut 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


295 


in half by the iron shower. Those in front of the point where 
the storm had struck it, broke off and fled to the village of 
Nanterre on the left, where they took shelter among the houses. 
The other portion of the column broke up as suddenly, and 
became at once a disorganized mob, who at the top of their 
speed rushed down to the slope again to the bridge at Neuilly. 
Across this they poured in wild confusion and made no halt 
until they had passed the Fort Maillot. There the officers 
attempted to rally them, but in vain ; many had thrown their 
muskets away in their flight, the rest slung them behind them, 
and continued their way to Paris, all vowing that they had been 
betrayed, and that they would have vengeance on the Com- 
mune. Seeing that there was no more probability of fighting 
on his side, Cuthbert returned to Madame Michaud’s. 

“ Madame is on the roof,” Margot said as he entered ; 
“ everyone is up there : she said I was to give you breakfast 
when you came in ; the coffee is ready, and I have an omelette 
prepared, it will be cooked in three minutes ; Madame said 
that you would be sure to be hungry after being out so long.” 
In a quarter of an hour he ascended to the roof. The resident 
on the ground-floor had an astronomical telescope with which 
he was in the habit of reconnoitring the skies from the garden. 
This he had taken up to the roof, where some twenty persons 
were gathered. A magnificent view was obtained here of the 
circle of hills from Valerien round by Meudon, and the whole 
of the left bank of the river. It needed but a glance to see that 
the army of the Commune had made but little progress. Al- 
though the fighting began soon after two o’clock in the morn- 
ing, and it was now nearly mid-day, the heights of Meudon 
were still in the hands of the troops. 

From among the trees by the chateau white puffs of smoke 
shot out, many of the shells bursting in and around the fort of 
Issy, which replied briskly. The guns of Vanves joined in the 
combat, their fire being directed towards the plateau of Chatil- 
lon, which was held by the troops. Round Issy a force of the 
National Guard was assembled, but the main body was in the 
deep valley between the forts and Meudon, and on the slopes 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


296 

nearly up to the chateau ; the rattle of musketry here was con- 
tinuous, a light smoke drifting up through the trees. After 
a time it was evident that the line of musketry fire was lower 
down the hill, descending, showing that the troops were press- 
ing the Communists backwards, and presently one of the 
batteries near the chateau shifted its position, and took ground 
some distance down the hill, and this and a battery near the 
end of the viaduct by the chateau, opened a heavy fire on the 
forts. 

A look through the telescope showed that the Communists 
were crouching behind walls and houses, occasionally, when 
the fire of the guns was silent, a few of them would get up and 
advance into the open, but only to scamper back into shelter 
as soon as they reopened fire. 

“ That settles it, monsieur,” Cuthbert said, to the owner of the 
telescope, after taking a long look through it, “ hitherto, the 
Communists have believed that Versailles was at their mercy, 
and they had but to march out to capture it. They have failed, 
and failure means their final defeat. They say that the prison- 
ers of war are arriving in Versailles at the rate of two or three 
thousand a day, and in another fortnight, Thiers will have 
a force sufficient to take the offensive, and by that time, will 
doubtless have siege-guns in position. I don’t say that Paris 
may not hold out for a considerable time, but it must fall in the 
long run, and I fear, that all who have got anything to lose will 
have a very bad time of it.” 

“ I fear so, monsieur ; as these wretches become more desper- 
ate, they will proceed to greater lengths. You see they have 
already insisted that all the National Guard — whatever their 
opinions — shall join in the defence of the city. They have 
declared the confiscation of the goods of any member of the 
Guard who shall leave the town. I hear a decree is likely to 
be published to-morrow or next day confiscating all Church 
property ; already they have taken possession of the churches, 
and turned them into clubs. If they do such things now, there 
is no saying to what lengths they may go as they see their 
chances of success diminishing daily.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


297 


Althcrtig^ the artillery fire was maintained for some time 
lorfger, it was by three o’clock evident that the battle was vir- 
tually over. The party therefore descended from the roof, and 
Cuthbert strolled back to the centre of Paris. The streets, that 
evening, presented a very strong contrast to the scene of excite- 
ment that had reigned twenty-four hours before. There was no 
shouting and singing ; no marching of great bodies of troops. 
An air of gloom pervaded the lower classes, while the bourgeois 
remained for the most part in their houses, afraid that the deep 
satisfaction the events of the day had caused them, might 
betray itself in their faces. 

For the next few days Cuthbert worked steadily, going up 
late in the afternoon to Fassy. The Commune had, on the day 
after the failure against Versailles, issued a decree that all 
unmarried men from seventeen to thirty-five, should join the 
ranks, and a house-to-house visitation was ordered to see that 
none escaped the operation of the decree. One of these parties 
visited Cuthbert : it consisted of a man with a red sash, and 
two others in the uniform of the National Guard. As soon as 
they were satisfied of Cuthbert’s nationality, they left, having 
been much more civil than he had expected. He thought it 
advisable, however, to go at once to the Hotel de Ville, where, 
on producing his passport, he was furnished with a document 
bearing the seal of the Commune, certifying that being a British 
subject, Cuthbert Hartington was exempt from service, and 
was allowed to pass anywhere without molestation. 

Equal good luck did not attend the other students, all of 
whom were, to their intense indignation, enrolled upon the list 
of the National Guard of their quarter. Cuthbert had difficulty 
in retaining a perfectly serious countenance, as Ren^, Pierre, 
and two or three others came in to tell him what had occurred. 

“ And there is no getting away from it,” Rend said. “ If we 
had thought that it would come to this, of course we would have 
left Paris directly this affair began, but now it is impossible : 
no tickets are issued by the railways except to old men, women 
and children, no one is allowed to pass through the gates with- 
out a permit from the Commune, and even if one could manage 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


298 

to get on to the wall and drop down by a rope one might be 
taken and shot by the Communist troops outside, or, if one 
got through them, by the sentries of the army of Versailles. 
What would you advise us to do, Cuthbert ? ” 

“ I am afraid I can’t give you any advice whatever, Ren^, 
it is certainly horribly unpleasant being obliged to fight in a 
cause you detest, but I don’t think there will be a very great 
deal of fighting till an assault is made on the city, and when 
that begins, I should say the Communists will be too busy to 
look for absentees from the ranks.” 

“ We shall be in double danger then,” Pierre Leroux put in. 
“We run the risk of being shot by the Communists for not 
fighting at the barricades, and if we escape that, we have a 
chance of being shot by the Versaillais as Communists. It is a 
horrible position to be placed in.” 

“ Well, I should say, Pierre, keep your eyes open and escape 
if you possibly can before the assault takes place. I should 
think some might manage to get out as women, but, of course 
you would have to sacrifice your mustaches. But if you did 
that, and borrowed the papers of some young woman or other, 
you might manage it. No doubt it would be awkward if you 
were found out, but it might be worth trying. If I cannot leave 
before the assault takes place I mean to go to one of the English 
hotels here, Meurice’s or the Dover, and establish myself there. 
During such fighting as there may be in the streets, there will 
be very few questions asked, and one might be shot before one 
could explain one was a foreigner, but the hotels are not likely 
to be disturbed. Seriously I should say that the best thing 
you can all do when the fighting begins in the streets, is to keep 
out of the way until your battalion is engaged, then burn any. 
thing in the way of uniform, get rid of your rifle somehow, and 
gather at Goudd’s. He could vouch for you all as being his 
pupils, and as being wholly opposed to the Commune. His 
name should be sufficiently well known, if not to the first officer 
who may arrive, at least, to many officers, for his testimony to 
be accepted. Still, I do think that the best plan of all will be 
to get out of the place when you get a chance,” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


299 


Some of the students did succeed in getting out. Pierre and 
two others made their way down through the drains, came out 
on the river at night, and swam across. One of the youngest 
went out by train dressed as a woman, but the rest were forced 
to don the uniform and take their places in the ranks of the 
National Guard. The question of leaving Paris was frequently 
discussed by Cuthbert and Mary Brander, but they finally 
determined to stay. It was morally certain that the troops 
would enter Paris either at the Port Maillot or at the gate of 
Pont du Jour ; or at any rate, somewhere on that side of Paris. 
Once inside the walls they would meet with no resistance there 
— the fighting would only commence when they entered the city 
itself. Passy was to a large extent inhabited by well-to-do 
people, and it was not here that the search for Communists 
would begin. The troops would here be greeted as bene- 
factors. 

“ I do not think there is the smallest risk, Mary ; if there 
were, I should say at once that we had better be off, and I 
would escort you down to Cornwall, but as there seems to me 
no danger whatever, I should say let us stick to our original 
plan. I own I should like to see the end of it all. You might 
amuse yourself at present by making a good-sized Union Jack, 
which you can hang out of your window when the troops 
enter. When I see the time approaching, I intend to make an 
arrangement with the Michauds to establish myself here, so as 
to undertake the task of explaining, if necessary, but I don’t 
think any explanation will be asked. It is likely enough that 
as soon as the troops enter they will establish themselves in 
this quarter before making any further advance ; they will know 
that they have hard fighting before them, and until they have 
overcome all opposition, will have plenty to think about, and 
will have no time to spare in making domiciliary visits.” 


300 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Arnold Dampierre had moved from his lodgings in the 
Quartier Latin at the outbreak of the insurrection, and had 
taken up his abode in one of the streets leading up to Mont- 
martre. There he was in close connection with many of the 
leaders of the Commune, his speeches and his regular attend- 
ance at their meetings, his connection with Dufaure, who was the 
president of one of the revolutionary committees, and with his 
daughter, and the fact that he was an American, had rendered 
him one of the most conspicuous characters in the Quarter. 
He would have been named one of the delegates of the Council 
of the Commune, but he refused the honor, preferring to remain, 
as he said, “ the representative of the great republic across the 
seas.” 

More than once Cuthbert met him as he rode about, but only 
once did they speak. Cuthbert was crossing the square in front 
of the Hotel de Ville, when he saw Arnold Dampierre. The 
latter was on foot and did not notice Cuthbert until he was 
within a few yards of him ; as his eye fell on him he hesitated 
and then walked on as if about to pass without speaking ; 
Cuthbert, however, held out his hand. 

“ Why, Dampierre,” he said, “ you are not going to cut me, 
are you ? There has been no quarrel between us, and the last 
time we met was when we were lying next to each other in the 
ambulance.” 

Dampierre took the offered hand. “ No, no,” he said with 
nervous quickness, “ no quarrel at all, Hartington, but you see 
we have gone different ways, that is to say, I have gone out of 
your way, and thought that you would not care to continue the 
acquaintance.” 

“There is no such feeling on my part, I can assure you. 
There need be no question between us as to the part you have 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


301 


taken. I am sorry, but it is no concern of mine, and after 
living in the same house for a year or so, and having faced 
death side by side at Champigny, no difference of political 
opinion should interfere with our friendship. Besides, you 
know,” he added with a laugh, “ I may want to get you to 
exert your influence on my behalf. Events are thickening. In 
troubled times it is always well to have a friend at court, and if 
I come to be treated as a suspect, I shall refer to you for a 
character as a peaceable and well-intentioned student of art.” 

“ There is no fear of anything of that sort, Hartington ; but 
should you, by any possibility, get into trouble, you have but to 
send to me. However, this state of things will not last long, 
the people are fairly roused now and will soon sweep the butch- 
ers of Versailles before them, and a reign of perfect freedom 
and equality will be established, and the world will witness the 
spectacle of a free country, purging itself from the tyranny of 
capital and the abuse of power, under which it has so long 
groaned. But I have much to do and must be off,” and with 
a hasty shake of the hand he hurried away again. 

Cuthbert looked after him. “ The poor fellow is fast qualify- 
ing for a mad-house,” he said ; “ he has changed sadly, his 
cheeks are hollow and his eyes unnaturally brilliant. Those 
patches of color on his cheeks are signs of fever rather than of 
health. That woman, Minette, is responsible for this ruin. It 
must end badly one way or the other ; the best thing that could 
happen to him would be to fall in one of these sorties. He has 
made himself so conspicuous that he is almost certain to be 
shot when the troops take Paris, unless, indeed, he becomes 
an actual lunatic before that. Woundup as he is by excitement 
and enthusiasm he will never bring himself to sneak off in dis- 
guise, as most of the men who have stirred up this business 
will do.” 

The time passed quickly enough in Paris, events followed 
each other rapidly, there was scarce a day without fighting, 
more or less serious. Gradually the troops wrested position 
after position from the Communists, but not without heavy 
fighting. The army at Versailles had swelled so rapidly by the 


302 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


arrival of the prisoners from Germany that even in Paris, where 
the journals of the Commune endeavored to keep up the 
spirits of the defenders by wholesale lying as to the re- 
sult of the fighting outside its walls. It was known that at 
least a hundred thousand men were now gathered at Ver- 
sailles. 

“ There is no doubt of one thing,” Cuthbert said, as standing 
with Mary on the Trocadero, they one day watched the duel, 
when the guns at Meudon were replying vigorously to the fire of 
the forts, I must modify my first opinions as to the courage of 
the Communists. They have learnt to fight, and allowing for 
all the exaggeration and bombast of their proclamations, they 
now stand admirably ; they have more than once retaken posi- 
tions from which they have been driven, and although very 
little is said about their losses, I was talking yesterday to a 
surgeon in one of the hospitals, and he tells me that already 
they must be as great as those throughout the whole of the first 
siege. 

“ They are still occasionally subject to panics. For instance, 
there was a bad one the other night when the troops took the 
Chateau of Becon, and again at Clamart, but I fancy that is 
owing to the mistake the Communists made in forcing men 
who are altogether opposed to them into their ranks. These 
men naturally bolt directly they are attacked, and that causes a 
panic among the others who would have fought had the rest 
stood. Still, altogether, they are fighting infinitely better than 
expected, and at Clamart they fought really well in the open for 
the first time. Before, I own that my only feelings towards the 
battalions of beetle-browed ruffians from the faubourgs was 
disgust, now I am beginning to feel a respect for them, but it 
makes the prospect here all the darker. 

“ I have no doubt that as soon as McMahon has got all his 
batteries into position he will open such a fire as will silence 
the forts and speedily make breaches in the walls ; but the real 
fighting won’t begin till they enter. The barricades were at 
first little more than breastworks, but they have grown and 
grown until they have become formidable fortifications, and, if 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


303 

stoutly defended, and with every house occupied by desperate 
men, it will be terrible work carrying them by assault. How- 
ever, there are few places where the main defences cannot be 
turned, for it is impossible to fortify every street. However, if 
the Communists fight as desperately as we may now expect, in 
their despair, the work of clearing the W'hole city must occupy 
many days.” 

‘‘ It will be very unpleasant in Passy when the batteries on 
all those heights open fire.” 

“ It would, indeed, if they were to direct their fire in this di- 
rection, for they could wipe Passy out altogether in a few hours ; 
but everything shows that Thiers is anxious to spare Paris 
itself as much as possible. Not a shot has been fired at ran- 
dom, and scarcely a house has been injured. They fire only 
at the forts and at the batteries on this side, and when they 
begin in earnest I have no doubt it will be the same. It would 
be a mere waste of shot to fire up there, and if the Versailles 
people were to do unnecessary damage it would bring them 
into odium throughout all France, for it would be said that they 
were worse than the Prussians.” 

On the 25th of April, at 8 o’clock in the morning, the long 
silence of the besiegers’ batteries ended. Cuthbert was taking 
his coffee when he heard a sound like the rumble of a heavy 
wagon. He ran to his window. There was quiet in the street 
below, for everyone had stopped abruptly to listen to the roar, 
and from every window heads appeared. Completing his dress- 
ing hastily, he went out and took the first fiacre he met and 
drove to Passy. The rumble had deepened into a heavy roar ; 
the air quivered with the vibrations, and the shriek of the shells 
mingled with the deep booming of the guns. When he entered 
Madame Michaud’s, she, her husband and Mary were standing 
at the open window. 

“We have just come down from the top of the house,” Mary 
said, “it is a grand sight from there; will you come up, Cuth- 
bert.?” 

“ Certainly, Mary ; you see I was right, and there do not 
seem to be any shell comins: this way.” 


3^4 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ No. But we were all desperately alarmed, were we not 
madame, when they began.” 

“ It was enough to alarm one,” Madame Michaud said in- 
dignantly, “ half the windows were broken, and that was enough 
to startle one even without the firing.” 

“It was perfectly natural, madame,” Cuthbert agreed ; “ the 
first shock is always trying, and even soldiers with seasoned 
nerves might be excused for starting, when such a din as this 
commenced.” 

Cuthbert and Mary went up at once to the roof, where the 
old gentleman from below had already set up his telescope. 
He did not need that, however, to observe what was going on. 
Along almost the whole crest of the eminences round the south 
and west, heavy guns were playing upon the defences. From 
the heights of Chatillon, the puffs of white smoke came thick 
and fast, the battery at the Chateau of Meudon was hard at 
work, as were those of Brimborien and Breteuil. Mount 
Valerien was joining in the fray, while batteries on the plateau 
of Villejuif were firing at the forts of Montrouge and Bicetre. 
Without exception, the greater part of the fire was concentrated 
upon the forts of Issy and Vanves, while attention was also 
being paid to the batteries at Point de Jour and Porte 
Maillot. 

The Communists replied to the fire steadily, although Issy, 
which came in for by far the largest share of the attentions of 
the assailants, fired only a gun now and then, showing that it 
was still tenanted by the defenders. It was difficult indeed to 
see how often it replied, for the shell burst so frequently on it 
that it was difficult to distinguish between their flashes and 
those of its guns. Through the telescope could be seen how 
terrible was the effect of the fire ; already the fort had lost the 
regularity of its shape, and the earth, with which it had been 
thickly covered, was pitted with holes. Presently there was 
an outburst of firing comparatively close at hand. 

“ That is the battery on the Trocadero,” one of the party 
exclaimed. “ I think that they must be firing at Valerien, I 
saw several spurts of smoke close to it.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


305 

“I hope not,” Cuthbert said, “for if Valerien answers, our 
position here will not be so pleasant.” 

For an hour Valerien disregarded the shells bursting in and 
around it, and continuing its fire against Issy. 

“ That was a good shot,” the astronomer said, as he sat with 
his eyes at his telescope watching the fort. “A shell burst 
right on one of the embrasures.” A minute or two later came 
a rushing sound, rising rapidly to a scream ; instinctively most 
of those on the roof ducked their heads. 

“ Valerien is waking up,” Cuthbert said ; “ here comes 
another.” 

For an hour Valerien poured its fire upon the battery on the 
Trocadero, and with so accurate an aim that at the end of that 
time it was reduced to silence. While the fire was going on, 
those on the roof went below, for although the precision with 
which the artillerymen fired was so excellent that there was 
but slight danger, the trial to the nerves from the rush of the 
heavy shell was so great that they were glad to leave the roof 
and to take their places at the windows below. The danger 
was no less, for had a shell struck the house and exploded, it 
would have wrecked the whole building, but there was some 
sense of safety in drawing back behind the shelter of the wall 
as the missiles were heard approaching. 

To the disappointment of the middle class who still remained 
in Paris, the bombardment was only partly renewed on the 
following day, and then things went on as before. It was sup- 
posed that its effects, great as they had been on the forts most 
exposed to it, had not come up to the expectations of the 
besiegers, and the telescope showed that the troops were hard 
at work erecting a great battery on Montretout, an eminence 
near St. Cloud. On the night of the 5th of May the whole of 
the batteries opened fire again, and the troops made a des- 
perate effort to cut the force in Issy from communication either 
with the town or with Vanves. The National Guard poured 
out from the city, and for some hours the fighting was very 
severe, the troops at last succeeding in their object ; but as soon 
as they had done so, the guns on the enciente and those of 
20 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. ■ 


306 

Vanves opened so tremendous a fire upon them, that they were 
forced to abandon the positions they had won. 

At the Railway Station at Clamart there was also heavy 
fighting; the National Guard attacked suddenly and in such 
overwhelming numbers that after a short but desperate resist- 
ance, the garrison of the station were forced to retire. Rein- 
forcements were soon brought up, the troops again advanced 
and the insurgents were driven out. Their loss during the 
night was put down as a thousand. On the 8th Montretout, 
which was armed with 72 heavy guns, opened fire, the rest of 
the batteries joined in, and for a couple of hours the din was 
terrific. The next day Issy was captured by the troops. They 
attacked the village at daybreak, and advancing slowly, cap- 
turing house by house, they occupied the church and market- 
place at noon. Just as they had done so, a battalion of In- 
surgents were seen advancing, to reinforce the garrison of the 
Fort. They were allowed to advance to within fifty yards 
when a heavy volley was poured into them. They halted for 
a moment, but their colonel rallied them. He was, however, 
killed by another volley, when the men at once broke, threw 
away their arms, and ran back to the city gates. The rest of 
the village was carried with a rush, and when the troops reached 
the gate of the Fort, it was found open. It was at once oc- 
cupied, the whole of the defenders having fled, as they saw that 
the steady advance of the troops would, if they remained, cut 
them off from escape. The fall of the Fort was so unexpected 
that the batteries on the heights continued to fire upon it for 
some time after the troops had gained possession. 

The capture of Issy created an immense effect in Paris. 
General Rossel resigned the command of the insurgent army. 
He had been a colonel of the engineers, and was an officer of 
merit, but his political opinions had proved too much for his 
loyalty to his country and profession ; doubtless he had deemed 
that if, as at first seemed probable, the insurrection would be 
successful and the revolution triumph, he would become its 
Napoleon. He now saw the ruin of his hopes ; he had for- 
feited his position and his life, and in the proclamation he is- 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


307 

sued announcing his resignation he poured out all the bitterness 
of his disappointment, and told the Commune his opinion of 
them, namely, that they were utterly incapable, without an idea 
of the principles either of liberty or of order, and filled only with 
jealousy and hatred of each other. So scathing was the indict- 
ment, that he was at once arrested, but managed to make his 
escape. 

The fire from the batteries on the assailants’ right, was now 
concentrated upon Vanves, which was evacuated by the insur- 
gents two days later. The fall of these forts left the position 
at Point de Jour unsupported, and indeed the guns remounted 
at Issy took its defenders in flank, and rendered it impossible 
for them to work their guns. In their despair the Commune 
now threw off the mask of comparative moderation, and pro- 
ceeded to imitate to its fullest extent the government of the 
Jacobins. Decrees were passed for the establishment of courts 
to arrest, try, and execute suspected persons without delay, and 
under the false pretence that prisoners taken by the troops had 
been executed, the murder of the Archbishop of Paris and other 
priests, who had been taken and thrown into prison as hos- 
tages, was decided upon. 

Upon the fall of Issy being known, Cuthbert considered the 
end to be so near that it would be better for him to take up his 
abode permanently at Madame Michaud’s. She had been press- 
ing him to do so for some time, as she and her husband thought 
that the presence of an English genlleman there would conduce 
to their safety when the troops entered Paris. He had indeed 
spent most of his time there for the last three weeks, but had 
always returned to his lodgings at night. He, therefore, 
packed up his pictures and his principal belongings and drove 
wdth them to Passy. Two days later he met Arnold Dampierre. 

“ I am glad to have met you,” the latter said, “ I have been 
to our old place, and found that you had left. Minette and I 
are to be married to-morrow, a civil marriage, of course, and I 
should be very glad if you will be present as a witness. There 
is no saying who will be alive at the end of another week, and 
I should like the marriage to be witnessed by you.” 


3o8 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


“ I will do SO with pleasure, Arnold, though it seems scarcely 
a time for marrying.” 

“ That is true, but if we escape we must escape together. If 
I am killed I wish her to go over to America and live as mis- 
tress of my place there, therefore, I shall place in your hands 
an official copy of the register of our marriage. Where will she 
be able to find you after all this is over ? ” 

Cuthbert gave his address at Madame Michaud’s. 

“ I don’t suppose I shall stay there long after all is finished 
here,” he said, “ but they will know where to forward any letters 
to me. Would it not be better, Arnold, for you to throw up all 
this at once and return to your old lodgings, where you may 
perhaps remain quietly until the search for the leaders of this 
affair relaxes ? ” 

Arnold shook his head gloomily ; “ I must go through it to 
the end. The cause is a noble one, and it is not because its 
leaders are base, and at the same time wholly incapable men, 
that I should desert it. Besides, even if I should do so, she 
would not. No, it is not to be thought of. The marriage will 
take place at the Mairie of Montmartre, at eleven o’clock to- 
morrow.” 

“ I will be there, Arnold.” Cuthbert walked slowly back to 
Passy. He was shocked at the dismal shipwreck, of what had 
seemed a bright and pleasant future, of the man of whom he had 
seen so much for upwards of a year. Dampierre’s life had 
seemed to offer a fairer chance of happiness and prosperity 
than that of any other of the students at Monsieur Goudd’s. He 
had an estate amply sufficient to live upon in comfort, and even 
affluence ; and he had artistic tastes that would save him from 
becoming, like many southern planters, a mere lounger through 
life. His fatal love for Minette had caused him to throw him- 
self into this insurrection, and to take so prominent a part in it 
that the chance of his life being spared, did he fall into the 
hands of the troops, was small indeed ; even did he succeed in 
escaping with Minette his chances of happiness in the future 
seemed to Cuthbert to be faint indeed. With her passionate 
impulses she would speedily weary of the tranquil and easy life 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


309 

on a southern plantation, and, with her, to weary was to seek 
change, and however that change might come about, it would 
bring no happiness to her husband. 

“ I am going to see your rival married to-morrow,” he said to 
Mary. 

“ What, the model } Don’t call her my rival, Cuthbert, it 
makes me ashamed of myself, even to think that I should have 
suspected you of caring for that woman we saw on horseback 
the other day.” 

‘‘ Then we will call her your supposed rival, Mary ; yes, she 
is going to be married to Arnold Dampierre, to-morrow.” 

“ What a time to choose for it,” she said, with a shudder. 
“ In a few days Paris will be deluged with blood, for the Com- 
mune boasts that every street is mined.” 

“ We need not believe all that, Mary ; no doubt the principal 
streets have been mined, but the Commune have made such a 
boast of the fact, that you may be sure the French gen- 
erals will avoid the great thoroughfares as much as possible, 
and will turn the barricades by advancing along the narrow 
streets and lanes ; besides, it is one thing to dig mines and 
charge them, and quite another thing to explode them at the 
right moment in the midst of a desperate fight. However, I 
agree with you that it is a dismal business, but Arnold explained 
to me that he did it because he and Minette might have to fly 
together, or, that if he fell, she might inherit his property. He 
did not seem to foresee that she too might fall, which is, to my 
mind as likely as his own death, for as in former fights here, 
the female Communists will be sure to take their place in the 
barricades with the men, and, if so, I will guarantee that Min- 
ette will be one of the foremost to do so. The production of 
female fiends seem to be one of the peculiarities of French rev- 
olutions. As I told you, I am going to the wedding in order to 
sign as a witness ; I could hardly refuse what I regard as the 
poor fellow’s last request, though it will be a most distasteful 
business.” 

“ The last time you spoke to him, you said it struck you that 
he was going out of his mind.” 


310 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ Yes, I thought so and think so still ; his manner was 
changed to-day ; before, he had that restless, nervous, excitable 
look that is the indication of one phase of insanity ; to-day there 
was the gloomy, brooding sort of look that is equally charac- 
teristic of another form of madness. 

“ At the same time that might be well explained by the cir- 
cumstances, and I have not the same absolute conviction in his 
sanity that I had before. I suppose you will not care to honor 
the wedding ceremony by your presence.” 

“ No, no, Cuthbert, not for anything. You cannot think that 
I should like to be present at such a ghastly ceremony. I 
thought the churches were all shut up.” 

“ So they are ; the marriage is to be a civil one. They will 
merely declare themselves man and wife in the presence of an 
official ; he will enter them as such in a register, and the affair 
will be over. I would not say so to Arnold, but I have serious 
doubt whether the American authorities would recognize the 
ceremony as a legal one, did she ever appear there to claim 
possession. Of course, if he gets away also, it can be put right 
by another marriage when they get out, or they can stop for a 
few weeks on their way through England, and be married again 
there.” 

“ It is all most horrid, Cuthbert.” 

“ Well, if you see it in that light, Mary, I won’t press you to 
go to-morrow, and will give up any passing idea that I may have 
had, that we might embrace the opportunity and be married at 
the same time.” 

“ It is lucky that you did not make such a proposition to me 
in earnest, Cuthbert,” Mary laughed, “ for if you had, I would 
assuredly have had nothing more to do with you.” 

“ Oh, yes, you would, Mary, you could not have helped your- 
self, and you would, in a very short time have made excuses for 
me on the ground of my natural anxiety to waste no further 
time before securing my happiness.” 

“ No one could expect any happiness after being married in 
that sort of way. No, sir, when quite a long time on, we do get 
married, it shall be in a church in a proper and decent manner. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


311 

I don’t know that I might not be persuaded to make a sacrifice 
and do without bridesmaids or even a wedding-breakfast, but 
everything else must be strictly en regie.” 

The next morning at the appointed hour, Cuthbert went up 
to Montmartre. Several men, whose red scarfs showed that 
they belonged to the Government of the Commune were stand- 
ing outside. They looked with some surprise at Cuthbert as 
he strolled quietly up. “ I am here, messieurs, to be a witness 
to the marriage of my friend, Arnold Dampierre.” 

The manner of the men instantly changed, and one said, 
“ We are here also to witness the marriage of our noble Ameri- 
can friend to the daughter of our colleague, Dufaure. Dam- 
pierre is within, Dufaure will be here with his daughter in a few 
minutes.” Cuthbert passed through and entered the office 
where a Commissary of the Commune was sitting at a table. 
Arnold was speaking to him. He turned as Cuthbert en- 
tered. 

“ Thank you, Hartington. This is not exactly what I had 
pictured would be the scene at my wedding, but it is not my 
fault that it must be managed this way, and I intend to have 
the ceremony repeated if we get safely to England. After all, 
it is but what you call a Gretna Green marriage.” 

“ Yes, as you say, you can be married again, Arnold, which 
would certainly be best in all respects, and might save litigation 
some day. But here they come, I think.” 

There was a stir at the door, and Minette and her father 
entered, followed by the Communists with red scarfs. Arnold 
also wore one of these insignia. Minette was in her dress as a 
Vivandihre. She held out her hand frankly to Cuthbert. 

“ I am glad to see you here, monsieur,” she said. “ It is 
good that Arnold should have one of his own people as a wit- 
ness. You never liked me very much, I know, but it makes no 
difference now.” 

“ Please to take your place,” the officer said. Cuthbert 
stepped back a pace. Arnold took his place in front of the 
table with Minette by his side, her father standing close to her. 

“ There is nothing, Arnold Dampierre,” the official asked. 


312 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ in the laws of your country that would prevent you making a 
binding marriage.” 

“ Nothing whatever. When a man is of age in America he 
is free to contract any marriage he chooses without obtaining 
the consent of any relation whatever.” 

The official made a note of this. “ Martin D ufaure, do you 
give your sanction and consent to the marriage of your daughter 
with Arnold Dampierre, American citizen.” 

“ I do,” the Communist said. 

“ Take her hand, Arnold Dampierre.” 

“ Do you take this woman as your wife ? ” 

As the words left his lips, there was a pistol-shot. With a 
low cry, Arnold fell across the table. Cuthbert had turned at 
the report, and as the man who had fired, lowered his pistol to 
repeat the shot, he sprang forward, and struck him with all his 
weight and strength on the temple. The man fell like a log, 
his pistol exploding as he did so. With a cry like that of a 
wounded animal Minette had turned around, snatched a dagger 
from her girdle, and, as the man fell, she sprang to his side and 
leant over him with uplifted knife. Cuthbert caught her wrist 
as she was about to strike. 

“ Do not soil your hand with blood, Minette,” he said quietly 
as she turned fiercely upon him. “ Arnold would not like it ; 
leave this fellow to justice, and give your attention to him.” 

Dropping the knife she ran forward to the table again, two 
or three of Arnold’s colleagues were already leaning over him. 
Believing that her lover was dead, Minette would have thrown 
herself on his body, but they restrained her. 

“ He is not dead, Minette, the wound is not likely to be fatal, 
he is only hit in the shoulder.” 

“ You are lying, you are lying, he is dead,” Minette cried, 
struggling to free herself from their restraining arms. 

“ It is as they say, Minette,” her father said, leaning over 
Arnold, “ here is the bullet hole in his coat, it is the same 
shoulder that was broken before ; he will recover, child, calm 
yourself, I order you.” 

Minette ceased to struggle, and burst into a passion of tears. 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


313 


‘‘You had better send a man to fetch a surgeon at once,” 
Cuthbert said to one of the Communists. “ I have no doubt 
Arnold has but fainted from the shock, coming as it did at such 
a moment.” He then looked at the wound. 

“ ’Tis not so serious as the last,” he said, “ by a long way, 
it is higher and has no doubt broken the collar bone, but that is 
not a very serious matter. I think we had better lay him down 
on that bench, put a coat under his head, pour a few drops of 
spirits between his lips, and sprinkle his face with cold water.” 

Cuthbert then went across the room. Several of the Com- 
munists were standing round the fallen man. 

“ He is stunned I think,” Cuthbert said. 

“ He is dead,” one of the men replied. “Your blow was 
enough to kill an ox. It is the best thing for him, for assur- 
edly he would have been hung before nightfall for this attempt 
upon the life of our good American colleague.” 

Cuthbert stooped down and felt the pulse of the fallen man. 

“I am afraid he is dead,” he said, “certainly I had no inten- 
tion of killing him. I thought of nothing but preventing him 
repeating his shot, which he was on the point of doing.” 

“ It does not matter in the least,” one of the men said, “ it is 
all one whether he was shot by a bullet of the Versaillais, or 
hung, or killed by a blow of an Englishman’s fist. Monsieur 
le Commissaire, will you draw up a proces-verbal of this 
affair ? ” 

But the Commissary did not answer ; in the confusion no 
one noticed that he had not risen from his chair, but sat lean- 
ing back. 

“ Diable, what is this .? ” the Communist went on, “ I believe 
the Commissary is dead.” He hurried round to the back of 
the table. It was as he said, the shot fired as the man fell had 
struck him in the heart, and he had died without a cry or a 
movement. 

“ Morbleau,” another of the Communists exclaimed, “ we 
came here to witness a comedy, and it has turned into a 
tragedy.” 

An exclamation from Minette, who was kneeling by Arnold, 


314 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


called Cuthbert’s attention to her. The American had opened 
his eyes. 

“ What has happened, Minette,” he asked, as she laid her 
head down on his breast and burst into another fit of passion- 
ate sobbing. 

“ You are out of luck, Arnold,” Cuthbert said, cheerfully ; 
“ a villain has fired at you, but you have got off this time more 
lightly than the last, and I think it is nothing more than a 
broken collar-bone, and that is not a very serious business, you 
know ; be quiet for a little time ; we shall have the surgeon here 
directly. Of course Minette is terribly upset, for she thought for 
a moment that you were killed.” 

Arnold lay still, stroking Minette’s head gently with his 
right hand ; gradually her sobs ceased, and Cuthbert then left 
them to themselves. The two bodies had by this time been 
carried into another room, and one of the delegates took his 
seat at the table and drew out a formal report of the occur- 
rences that had taken place which was signed by the others 
present and by Cuthbert. A surgeon presently arriving con- 
firmed Cuthbert’s view that the collar-bone had been broken, 
and proceeded to bandage it. 

As soon as it was done Arnold stood up unsteadily. “ Citi- 
zen Rigaud, I presume that, as a high official of the Commune, 
you can replace the citizen who has fallen and complete the 
ceremony.” 

“ Certainly, if it is your wish.” 

“ It is my wish more even than before.” 

“ The matter is simple,” the delegate said, “ my predecessor 
has already recorded your answers, there remains but for me 
to complete the ceremony. 

A minute later Arnold Dampierre and Minette were pro- 
nounced man and wife, and signed the register, Martin Dufaure, 
Cuthbert, and the various deputies present signing as witnesses. 
A fiacre had been called up, and was in readiness at the door. 
Cuthbert assisted Arnold to take his place in it. 

“ If I were you, Arnold,” he whispered, “ I would go to the 
old lodgings ; of course they are still vacant ; if you prefer it, 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


315 


you can take mine, I still keep them on though I have moved 
for a time. It will be better for you in every way not to be up 
here at Montmartre.” 

“ Thank you ; it would anyhow be quieter. Will you tell the 
coachman where to drive ? ” 

“ I will go on the box,” Cuthbert said, “ of course Dufaure 
will go with you.” He told the Communist what they had de- 
cided on. 

“ That will be best,” he agreed ; “ this is not a quiet quarter 
at present. What with drumming and drinking, it is not a place 
for a wounded man.” 

“ You had better go inside with them, and I will go on the 
box,” Cuthbert said, “ keep Minette talking, it will prevent her 
breaking down, it has been a terrible shock for her.” 

The landlady was heartily glad to see Dampierre back again. 
Cuthbert and the Communist assisted the wounded man to 
bed. 

“ I will see about getting things in at present,” Cuthbert said, 
“ so do not worry over that, Minette ; if everything goes well 
he will be about again in a few days, but keep him quiet as 
long as you can, I will come in to-morrow and see how he is 
getting on.” 

After going round to a restaurant and ordering meals to be 
sent in regularly, with some bottles of wine for Martin Dufaure’s 
benefit, Cuthbert returned to Passy. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

Mary was greatly shocked upon hearing the tragic circum- 
stances that had occurred at the wedding. 

“ Who is the man that fired, Cuthbert ? ” 

“ His name is Jean Diantre. I heard from Dufaure that he 
has been a lover of Minette’s ; he said she had never given him 
any encouragement, but acknowledged that he himself believed 
she might have taken him at last if she had not met Dampierre. 
He said that he had been uneasy for some time, for the man 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


316 

had become so moody and savage that he had feared ill would 
come of it. He was the same man who nearly stabbed me 
three months ago, taking me for Dampierre.” 

“ It is shocking to think that you have killed a man, Cuth* 
bert.” 

“ It may be shocking to you, Mary, but the matter does not 
weigh on my conscience at all. In the first place I had no idea 
of killing him, and in the second, if I had not hit hard and 
quickly he would have fired again and killed Arnold ; lastly, I 
regard these Communists as no better than mad dogs, and the 
chances are ten to one that he would have been shot at the 
barricades, or afterwards, if he had not died when he did.” 

“ It is all very terrible,” Mary sighed. 

“ It has all been terrible from beginning to end, Mary, but 
as hundreds of men are killed every day, and there will prob- 
ably be thousands shot when the troops enter Paris, I cannot 
regard the death of a would-be murderer as a matter that will 
weigh on my mind for a moment. And now what has been 
going on here 1 I hardly had time to notice whether the firing 
was heavy.” 

“ It has been tremendous,” she said. “ Several houses have 
been struck and set on fire lower down but no shells have come 
this way.” 

“ I have no doubt the troops imagine that all the houses 
down near Pont du Jour, are crowded with Communists in 
readiness to repel any assault that might be made. The army 
is doubtless furious at the destruction of the Column of Ven- 
dome, which was in commemoration, not only of Napoleon, but 
of the victories won by French armies. Moreover, I know from 
newspapers that have been brought in from outside, and which 
I have seen at the cafe, that they are incensed to the last 
degree by being detained here, when but for this insurrection, 
they would have been given a furlough to visit their families 
when they returned from the German prisons. So that I can 
quite understand the artillerymen taking a shot occasionally at 
houses they believe to be occupied by the insurgents. 

“ You may be sure of one thing, and that is that very little 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


3^7 


quarter will be shown to the Communists by the troops. Even 
now, I cannot but hope, that seeing the impossibility of resist- 
ing many days longer, and the certainty of a terrible revenge 
if the troops have to fight their way through the streets, the 
Communists will try to surrender on the best terms they can 
get. Thiers has all along shown such extreme unwillingness 
to force the fighting, that I am sure he would give far better 
terms than they could have any right to expect, rather than that 
Paris should be the scene of a desperate struggle, and, if the 
Communists fulfil their threats, of wholesale destruction and 
ruin.’’ 

Two more days passed. Cuthbert went down each day to his 
old lodging and found that Arnold was doing well. On the 
second day, indeed, he was out of bed with his arm in a sling 
and sitting partly dressed in an easy-chair. Martin Dufaure 
had left that morning for his own lodging, having slept for the 
last two nights on the sofa. Minette had made everything 
about the rooms tidy and fresh, the windows were open, and 
the distant roar of the bombardment could be plainly heard. 
She had a white handkerchief tied over her head, a neat, quiet 
dress, and was playing the role of nurse to perfection. Cuth- 
bert had been round to Monsieur Goude and had told him 
what had happened, and he had the evening before dropped ^n 
for a talk with Arnold. 

“ I am getting on wonderfully, Cuthbert,” Arnold said, on the 
latter’s second visit. “ Of course it is trying to be sitting here 
incapable of taking a part in what is going on.” 

“ You have taken quite enough part, Arnold, and I own I think 
your wound at the present moment is a fortunate one, for it will 
keep you out of mischief. When the surgeon comes next I 
should strongly advise you to get him to write you a certificate 
certifying that you have been wounded by a pistol ball, so that 
if, as is probable, there will sooner or later be a general search 
for Communists, you can prove that your injury was not received 
in the fighting outside the walls, and you can refer to Goude 
and me as to the fact that you are an art student here. Both 
documents had better be made out in another name than your 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


318 

own, for, unfortunately, yours has been rendered familiar to 
them by the frequent notices of your doings and speeches in the 
papers here.” 

“ I will see about it,” Arnold said ; “ I do not know that I can 
bring myself to that.” 

“ You will be very foolish and wrong not to do so, Arnold. 
You are a married man now, and have your wife to think about 
as well as yourself. You may be sure that there is not a single 
leader of the insurrection here who will not endeavor to escape 
under a false name ; besides, even granting that, as you believe, 
the cause is a righteous one, you certainly cannot benefit it in 
the slightest by sacrificing your life. Your wife was a Com- 
munist Vivandiere a few days ago, now she is a quiet little wife 
nursing a sick husband.” Glancing at Minette he saw an angry 
flush on her face, and a look of dogged determination ; he 
made no remark, however, and after chatting with Arnold for 
some time returned to Passy. 

“ That woman will bring destruction on them both or I am 
mistaken,” he said to Mary ; “ fond as she may be of Dampierre, 
her enthusiasm for the Commune will take her from his side 
when the last struggle begins. Do you know, Mary, my pre- 
sentiments about her have turned out marvellously correct.” 
He opened his sketch-book. “ Look at that,” he said ; “ at 
the time I sketched it she was poised as a Spanish dancer, and 
had castanets in her hand ; the attitude is precisely that in 
which she stood as a model, but it struck me at the moment 
that a knife would be more appropriate to her than a castanet, 
and you see I drew her so, and that is the precise attitude she 
stood in, dagger in hand, when I caught her wrist and pre- 
vented her from stabbing the man at her feet.” 

“ Don’t show them to me, Cuthbert, it frightens me when you 
talk of her.” 

“ You must remember that she is a mixture, Mary ; she is 
ake a panther, as graceful, and as supple ; a charming beast 
when it purrs and rubs itself against the legs of its keeper, ter- 
rible when, in passion, it hurls itself upon him. In the early 
days the students were, to a man, fascinated with her. I stood 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


319 

quite alone in my disapproval. Seeing her as I saw her to-day, 
I admit that she is charming, but I cannot forget her fury as 
she bounded, knife in hand, upon the man I had knocked down. 
Listen ! do your hear that rattle of musketry down by Pont du 
Jour } The troops must be working their way up towards the 
gate. Possibly, it is the beginning of the end.” 

Presently a Communist, with a red sash, rode furiously pash 
and in a quarter of an hour returned with a battalion of National 
Guards who had been stationed near the Arc de Triomphe. 

“ Evidently, there is a some sharp business going on, Mary. 
It is hardly likely the troops can be attacking at this time of 
day, they would be sure to choose early morning, mass their 
forces under cover of darkness, and go at the gate at daybreak; 
still, there is no doubt from that musketry firing, they must 
be trying to establish themselves nearer the gate than before.” 

The batteries that had all day been playing upon Pont du 
Jour, had suddenly ceased firing, but the rattle of musketry in 
that direction continued as hotly as ever for another two hours, 
and a number of field-guns joined in the conflict on the side of 
the Communists. 

“ I really must go and find out what it is all about,” Cuthbert 
said ; “ if I could get up near the Viaduct, I should be able to 
look down into the bastions at Pont du Jour.” 

“Don’t be away long,” Mary urged, “ I shall be feeling very 
nervous till you get back.” 

“ I won’t be long ; I shan’t stay to watch the affair, but only 
just to find out what the situation is. The fact that the Com- 
munists have brought up Field Artillery, shows that it is some- 
thing more than ordinary, although, why the batteries opposite 
should have ceased to play I cannot make out ; they are hard at 
work everywhere else.” 

Cuthbert made his way towards the Viaduct, and as he ap- 
proached it saw that some of the field-guns he had heard had 
been placed there, and that the parapet was lined with National 
Guards who were keeping up an incessant fire. Shells from 
Meudon and Fort Issy were bursting thickly over and near the 
bridge, and Cuthbert, seeing that he could not get further with- 


320 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


out being exposed to the fire, and might, moreover, get into 
trouble with the Communists, made his way down towards Pont 
du Jour. Several people were standing in shelter behind the 
wall of one of the villas. 

“ You had better not go farther,” one of them said, “ a shell 
burst twenty yards lower down a few minutes ago. Several of the 
villas are in flames, and bullets are flying about everywhere.” 

“ What is going on, gentlemen ? ” Cuthbert asked, as he joined 
them. 

“ The troops have entered Pont du Jour.” 

“ Impossible ! ” Cuthbert exclaimed, “ the firing has been 
heavy, but no heavier than usual, and although the village is 
knocked to pieces, as I saw for myself yesterday, no great harm 
was done to the bastions.” 

“ They have entered for all that,” one of the gentlemen said. 
“ Several wounded Communists have come along here, and they 
have all told the same story. Of course, they put it down to 
the treachery of their leaders, but at any rate, owing to the 
tremendous fire from the upper batteries and Issy, it was abso- 
lutely impossible to keep men in the bastions, and they were all 
withdrawn. A few were left in the houses and gardens, but the 
greater part fell back behind the Viaduct, which afforded them 
shelter. Somehow or other, the troops in the sap that had 
been pushed forward to within fifty yards of the gate must 
have come to the conclusion that the bastion was not tenanted, 
and trying the experiment, found themselves inside the wall 
without a shot having been fired. More must have followed 
them, at any rate a considerable force must have gathered there 
before the Communists found out they had entered. There 
can be no doubt that it was a surprise, and not a preconcerted 
movement, for the batteries continue to fire on the place for 
some time after they had entered. 

“ In a short time, small bodies of soldiers ran across the open 
where the shells were still bursting thickly, established them- 
selves in the ruins of the village, and, as they received reinforce- 
ments, gradually worked their way forwards. The Communists 
have brought up strong forces, but so far, they have been unable 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


321 


to drive back the troops, and, of course, their chance of doing 
so grows less and less. We can hear heavy firing all along to 
the right, and it seems as if the troops were pushing forward all 
. along the line from here to Neuilly. Thank God, the end of this 
terrible business is approaching, and by to-morrow morning we 
may see the troops in Passy, where there is scarce a soul but 
will welcome them with open arms. Our battalion of National 
Guards was one of the last to accept the orders of the Commune, 
and as it must be known in Versailles as well as in Paris, that 
this quarter is thoroughly loyal, we need fear no trouble. We 
are going back there with the news, for we can see nothing here, 
and if a battalion of Communists came along beaten, they would 
be as likely as not to vent their fury on all whom they see by 
their appearance and dress are likely to sympathize with the 
troops.” 

Cuthbert walked back with them to Passy. 

“ Good news,” he exclaimed, as he entered the room, where 
Mary and the Michauds were standing at the open window ; 
“ the troops are masters of Point du Jour, and the Communists 
have tried in vain to drive them back. No doubt, at present, 
the whole French army is being brought up, in readiness to 
enter as soon as it is dark, and by to-morrow morning this part 
of the town at any rate may be clear of the Communists.” 

Exclamations of delight burst from the others. “ I will run 
up to the roof,” Cuthbert said, “ there is heavy musketry fire 
going on all along this side, and one may get an idea how mat- 
ters are going, but we may be sure that the Communists will all 
fall back upon the city as soon as they know the troops have 
entered here.” 

Mary went up with him, and they found the astronomer had 
already his telescope in position. 

“ I have good news for you. Monsieur,” Cuthbert said ; “ the 
troops have entered Pont du Jour, and although the Communists 
are opposing them in great force, they are making their way 
forward. It has evidently been a surprise all round, and so far 
no great body of troops have been brought up, but no doubt 
they will soon be ready to advance in force.” 

21 


322 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


“ That is good news indeed. I have been watching Asnieres, 
and as far as I can make out a large body of troops have 
crossed the bridge there, and are skirmishing towards the 
enciente, and gradually driving back the Communists. They 
have advanced too from Neuilly and are pressing forward 
towards Porte Maillot. Mount Valerien seems to be firing at 
Montmartre.’’ 

Nightfall brought no cessation of the roar of cannon, and the 
roll of musketry seemed to be continuous, both from the left 
and right. Every window at Passy w^as lit up ; there was a 
crowd of women at every shop where colored materials could 
be obtained, and in every house the females were engaged in 
sewing red, white, and blue stuff of every description to make 
the National tri-colored flags, in readiness to hang out when 
the troops came along. Occasionally adventurous boys and 
young men came in with scraps of news ; the Viaduct had been 
carried before darkness set in, a heavy column of troops had. 
captured a strong barricade across the road, and, following the 
bank of the river, had taken possession of the bridge of Crenelle. 
Another division turning to the left had carried the gas works, 
while a third had captured the Asylum of St. Perrine. 

Itw'asatthe Trocadero that the insurgents were expected 
to make a stand in earnest. Here they had erected formidable 
works, and were reported to be hard at work mounting guns and 
mitrailleuses there. The troops, however, gave them no time 
to complete their preparations. A column entered a little 
before midnight by the gate of Passy, pushed on to the bridge 
of Jena, carried it after a sharp fight, and then charged at the 
double towards the heights of the Trocadero, where the Com- 
munists, taken completely by surprise, fled precipitously after a 
slight resistance, and at one o’clock in the morning the loy- 
alists were in possession of this important position. At mid- 
night another division entered at the Porte Maillot, and advanc- 
ing took possession of the Arc de Triomphe. 

At two o’clock the head of the French column came down 
the street. In an instant candles were placed at every window, 
flags were hung out, and the inhabitants poured into the street 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


323 


and welcomed their deliverers with shouts of joy. The troops 
piled their arms and fell out, and as soon as they did so, men 
and women brought out jugs of wine and provisions of all 
kinds. In half an hour the inhabitants were ordered to return 
to their houses, and the troops wrapping themselves in their 
blankets laid down in the roadway to get two or three hours, 
sleep before the heavy work expected in the morning. At five 
they were on their feet again. Already the din of battle had 
recommenced. At daybreak Bruat’s division crossed the 
Seine by the Viaduct, kept along the left bank, drove the in- 
surgents from the great iron foundry of Cail, and entered the 
Champs de Mars. 

The Communists fought stubbornly here, but a corps was 
sent round to turn their position, and seeing their retreat threat- 
ened, they broke and fled, and the Nicole Militaire was taken 
possession of without further resistance. General Cissey’s 
division entered by the gate of Mont Rouge, where the Com- 
munists, threatened in the rear by Bruat’s advance, fell back at 
their approach. Moving along the Boulevard Mont Rouge 
they came upon very strong and formidable barricades, defended 
by six cannon and mitrailleuses, supported by musketry fire 
from the houses. The position was so strong that even with 
the assistance of the artillery Cissey was unable to advance 
farther in this direction. 

Bruat’s division met with strong opposition at the Cartridge 
Factory in the Avenue Rapp, and the Reds were only driven 
out at last by artillery being brought up and shelling them out. 
After this Bruat pushed on, captured and occupied without 
resistance the Invalides, and the Palais Legislatif, opposite the 
Place de la Concorde. 

On the right bank the troops advanced from the Arc de 
Triomphe at the double and carried the Palais de L’ Industrie 
after a short resistance. By mid-day the whole of the Champs 
Elysdes as far as the barrier of the Place de la Concorde were 
in possession of the troops. 

Late in the afternoon the division of General Clinchamp 
marched down on the Rue Faubourg St. Honor^, came out 


324 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Upon the Boulevard and took possession of the Madeleine and 
the Grand Opera House. While these operations had been 
carried on the Communists, batteries on Montmartre had thrown 
shells over the whole area occupied by the troops, while Mont 
Valerien and the other batteries facing the western side main- 
tained a heavy fire upon those of Montmartre. 

Early in the morning all the members of the National Guard 
of Passy and Auteuil were summoned to arms and ordered to 
assist the troops, and were specially enjoined to maintain order 
in their rear as they advanced. Numbers of Communist pris- 
oners were taken by the troops as they worked their way for- 
ward, and upwards of 8,000 were despatched un'Ser a strong 
escort to Versailles. The order for the National Guard to 
assemble was received with intense satisfaction, the younger 
and unmarried men had been forced into the ranks of the Com- 
munists, but many had during the last day or two slipped away 
and remained in hiding, and all were anxious to prove that it 
was loyalty and not cowardice that had caused them to desert. 

Cuthbert was out all day watching, from points where he 
could obtain shelter from the flying bullets, the advance of the 
troops. When he returned he told Mary that everything was 
going on well so far, but he added, “ The work is really only 
beginning ; the barrier at the Place de la Concorde and the 
batteries on the terrace of the Tuileries are really formidable 
positions, and I hear that on the south side the advance has 
been entirely arrested by one of the barricades there. The 
Insurgents never intended to hold the outlying suburbs, and 
even the batteries on the Trocadero were built to aid the Forts 
and not for fighting inside the walls. You see every yard the 
troops gain now drives the Communists closer and closer 
together, and renders the defence more easy. It may be a 
week yet before the Commune is finally crushed. I should think 
that before the troops advance much further on this side they 
will storm Montmartre, whose batteries would otherwise take 
them in rear.” 

The next day three divisions marched against Montmartre, 
and attacked it simultaneously on three sides. The Communists 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


325 


here who had throughout the siege been the loudest and most 
vehement in their warlike demonstrations, now showed that at 
heart they were cowards. Although their batteries were armed 
with over a hundred guns, they offered but a momentary resist- 
ance and fled, panic-stricken, in every direction, some thousands 
being taken prisoners by the troops. On the other hand, 
throughout the rest of Paris, the fighting became more and 
more severe and desperate. The Northern Railway Station 
was defended successfully throughout the day. On the south 
side of the river but little progress was made by the troops, 
and they remained stationary also in the Champs Elysdes, the 
barriers in front being too strong to be stormed without fright- 
ful loss. These, however, would be turned by the divisions 
who had captured Montmartre, and the troops descending by 
different routes to the Boulevard des Italiennes, worked their 
way along as far as the Porte St. Denis, and this threatened 
the flank of the defenders of the Place de la Concorde and the 
Tuileries. 

The roar of fire was unbroken all day, the Forts, that had 
not yet fallen into the hands of the troops, bombarded all the 
quarters that had been captured, and were aided by powerful 
batteries at Belleville, at Vilette, and above all by those on the 
Buttes du Chaumont, where the Cemetery of Pere la Chaise 
had been converted into an entrenched camp, the positions here 
being defended by 20,000 of the best troops of Paris. In the 
western quarters things had resumed their normal state ; the 
shops were opened, children played in the streets, and women 
gossipped at the doors, there were men about too, for the order 
for the reassembling of the National Guard of this quarter had 
been cancelled, having met with the strongest opposition in the 
Assembly at Versailles. 

The astronomer downstairs turned out a very useful ac- 
quaintance, for hearing from Cuthbert, that he was extremely 
anxious to obtain a pass that would permit him to move about 
near the scenes of fighting without the risk of being seized and 
shot as a Communist, he said that he was an intimate friend of 
Marshal McMahon and should be glad to obtain a pass for 


326 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


him. On going to the quarters where the Marshal had estab- 
lished himself, he brought back an order authorizing Cuthbert 
Hartington, a British subject, to circulate everywhere in quar- 
ters occupied by the troops. 

“ It is too late to go down this evening, Mary,” he said, “ but I 
expect that to-morrow a great attack upon the positions round 
the Tuileries will take place, and I shall try and get some- 
where where I can see without being in the line of fire. I will 
take care to run no risk, dear ; you see my life is more precious 
to me now than it was when I joined the Franc tireurs des 
l^coles.” 

It was difficult to stop quietly indoors when so mighty a strug- 
gle was going on almost within sight, and at ten o’clock in the 
evening he and Mary went out to the Trocadero. The flashes 
of fire from the Loyal and Communist batteries were incessant. 
Away on the south side was a constant flicker of musketry as 
Cissey’s troops struggled with the defender of the barricades. 
An incessant fire played along the end of the Champs Elysdes, 
flashed from the windows of the Tuileries and fringed the parapet 
of the south side of the river facing the Palais. Fires were 
blazing in various parts of Paris, the result of the bombard- 
ment. The city looked strangely dark, for the men at the 
gas works were for the most part fighting in the ranks of the 
insurgents. The sky was lined with sparks of fire moving in 
arcs and marking the course of the shell as they traversed to 
and fro from battery to battery, or fell on the city. 

“ It is a wonderful sight, Mary.” 

“ Wonderful, but very terrible,” she replied ; “ it is all very well 
to look at from here, but only think what it must be for those 
within that circle of fire.” 

“ I have no pity for the Communists,” Cuthbert said, “ not 
one spark. They would not pull a trigger or risk a scratch for 
the defence of Paris against the Germans, now they are fight- 
ing like wild-cats against their countrymen. Look there,” he ex- 
claimed, suddenly, “ there is a fire broken out close to the Place 
de la Concorde, a shell must have fallen there. I fancy it must 
be within the barricades, but none of the batteries on either side 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


527 

would have been likely to send a shell there at night, as it is so 
close to the line of division that the missile would be as likely 
to strike friend as foe.” 

Higher and higher mounted the flames, spreading as they 
went till a huge mass of fire lighted up all that part of Paris. 

“ It must be a great public building of some sort,” Cuthbert 
said. 

“ See, another building is on fire a short distance away from 
it ; look, Cuthbert, look is that the reflection of the flames in the 
windows of the Tuileries or is it on fire ? 

“ It is fire,” Cuthbert exclaimed after a minute’s pause ; “ see 
the flames have burst through that window on the first floor. 
Good heavens, the Communists are carrying out their threat to 
lay Paris in ashes before they yield.” 

In five minutes all doubt was at an end, the flames were pour- 
ing out from every window on the first floor of the Palais, and 
it was evident the fire must have been lighted in a dozen places 
simultaneously. 

By this time the Trocadero was thronged with spectators at- 
tracted by the light in the sky, and by the report that one of 
the public buildings was on fire ; exclamations of fury and 
grief, and execrations upon the Communists rose everywhere, 
when it was seen that the Tuileries were in flames. From points 
at considerable distances from each other fresh outbreaks of 
fire took place. Most of those standing round were able to 
locate them, and it was declared that the Palace of the Court 
of Accounts, the Ministries of War and Finance, the palaces of 
the Legion of Honor and of the Council of State, the Pre- 
fecture of Police the Palace de Justice, the Hotel de Ville and 
the Palais Royale were all on fire. As the night went on the 
scene became more and more terrible. Paris was blazing in 
at least twenty places, and most of the conflagrations were 
upon an enormous scale. The scene was too fascinating and 
terrible to be abandoned, and it was not until the morning began 
to break that the spectators on the Trocadero returned to their 
homes. 


328 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


CHAPTER XXV. 

Armed with his pass Cuthbert started for the city at ten o’clock 
next morning A dense pall of smoke hung over Paris. On 
the south side of the river the conflict was still raging, as it was 
also on the north and east, but the insurgents’ shells were no 
longer bursting up the Champs Elysdes and the firing had ceased 
at the Place de la Concorde. It was evident that the insurgents, 
after performing their work of destruction, had evacuated their 
position there. On reaching the bottom of the Champs Elyshes 
he found that a breach had been made in the barricade and that 
a considerable number of troops were bivouacked in the Plaee 
de la Concorde itself. 

The fire-engines from Versailles, St. Denis, and other places 
round were already at work, but their efforts seemed futile in- 
deed in face of the tremendous bodies of fire with which they 
had to cope. Just as Cuthbert, after passing through the breach 
in the barricade, on the presentation of his pass to the sentries, 
arrived at the end of the Rue Rivoli, a mounted officer dashed 
up to the two engines at work opposite the building that had first 
been fired, and said — 

“ You can do no good here. Take your engines to the court- 
yard of the Tuileries and aid the troops in preventing the fire 
from spreading to the Louvre. That is the only place where there 
is any hope of doing good. Now, monsieur,” he said to Cuthbert, 
“ You must fall in and aid the Pompiers. The orders are that 
all able-bodied men are to help in extinguishing the fire.” 

Cuthbert was glad to be of use, and joining the firemen ran 
along with the engines down the Rue Rivoli and turned in with 
them into the courtyard of the palace. The western end, con- 
taining the State apartments, was a mass of fire from end to end, 
and the flames were creeping along both wings towards the 
Louvre. In the palace itself a battalion of infantry were at work 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


329 

Some were throwing furniture, pictures and curtains through the 
window into the courtyard ; others were hacking off doors and tear- 
ing up floors, while strong parties were engaged on the roofs in 
stripping off the slates and tearing down the beams and linings. 

Other engines presently arrived, for telegrams had been sent 
off soon after the fires broke out to all the principal towns of 
France, and even to London, asking for engines and men to 
work them, and those from Amiens, Lille, and Rouen had 
already reached Paris by train. 

After working for three hours Cuthbert showed his pass to 
the officer and was permitted to pass on, a large number of 
citizens being by this time available for the work, having been 
fetched from all the suburbs occupied by the troops. Before 
going very much farther Cuthbert was stopped by a line of 
sentries across the street. 

“ You cannot pass here,” the officer in charge said, as Cuthbert 
produced his permit, “ the island is still in the hands of the Com- 
munists, and the fire from their barricade across the bridge 
sweeps the street twenty yards farther on, aiid it would be certain 
death to show yourself there ; besides, they are still in force 
beyond the Hotel de Ville. You can, of course, work round by 
the left, but I should strongly advise you to go no farther. There 
is desperate fighting going on in the Place de la Bastille. The 
insurgent batteries are shelling the Boulevards hotly, and, worst 
of all, you are liable to be shot from the upper windows and 
cellars. There are scores of those scoundrels still in the houses ; 
there has been no time to unearth them yet, and a good many 
men have been killed by their fire.” 

“ Thank you, sir. I will take your advice,” Cuthbert said. 

He found, indeed, that there was no seeing anything that was 
going on in the way of fighting without running great risks, and 
he accordingly made his way back to the Trocadero. Here he 
could see that a number of fires had broken out at various points 
since morning, even in the part of the town occupied by the 
troops ; and though some of these might be caused by the Com- 
munists’ shell it was more probable that they were the work of 
the incendiary. He had, indeed, heard from some of the citizens 


330 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


to whom he had spoken while at work at the pumps, that orders 
had been issued that all gratirjgs and windows giving light to cel- 
lars, should be closed by wet sacks being piled against them, 
and should then be covered thickly with earth, as several women 
had been caught in the act of pouring petroleum into the cellars 
and then dropping lighted matches dowm upon it. 

These wretches had been shot instantly, but the fresh fires 
continually springing up showed that the work was still going 
on. 

It was strangely silent in the streets. With the exception of 
the sentries at every corner there were few persons indeed 
abroad. Many were looking from the windows, but few, indeed, 
ventured out. They knew not what orders had been given to 
the sentries and feared arrest were they to stir beyond their 
doors. Moreover, the occasional crash of a shell from the in- 
surgent batteries, the whistling of bullets, and the frequent dis- 
charge of musket shots still kept up by groups of desperate 
Communists who had taken refuge in the houses, was sufficient 
alone to deter them from making any attempt to learn what was 
going on. But in the absence of footfalls in the street and of 
the sound of vehicles, the distant noises were strangely audible. 
The rustle of the flames at the Hotel de Ville and the great fires 
across the river, the crash of the falling roofs and walls, the in- 
cessant rattle of distant musketry, and the boom of cannon, 
formed a weird contrast to the silence that prevailed in the 
quarter. Cuthbert felt that he breathed more freely when 
he issued out again into the Champs Elysees. 

The next day he did not go down. The advance continued, 
but progress was slow. On the following morning Paris was 
horrified by the news published in the papers at Versailles that 
statements of prisoners left no doubt that the Archbishop of 
Paris and many other priests, in all a hundred persons, had 
been massacred in cold blood, the methods of the first revolution 
being closely followed, and the prisoners made to walk out one 
by one from the gate of the prison, and being shot down as 
they issued out. Another statement of a scarcely less appalling 
nature was that the female fiends of the Commune not only 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


331 


continued their work of destruction by fire, but were poisoning 
the troops. Several instances of this occurred. In one case 
ten men were poisoned by one of these furies, who came out as 
they passed, and expressing joy at the defeat of the Commune, 
offered them wine. They drank it unsuspectingly, and within 
an hour were all dead. Orders, were consequently issued that 
no soldier should on any account accept drink or food of any 
kind offered them by women. 

“ This horrible massacre of the Archbishop and the other 
prisoners is next door to madness,” Cuthbert said, as he read 
the account at breakfast. “The Communists could have no 
personal feeling of hostility against their victims, indeed, the 
Archbishop was, I know, most popular. Upon the other hand 
it seals the fate of thousands. The fury excited by such a deed 
will be so great that the troops will refuse to give quarter 
and the prisoners taken will have to suffer to the utmost for 
the crime committed by perhaps a handful of desperate 
wretches. The omnibuses began to run yesterday from Sevres, 
and I propose, Mary, that we go over to Versailles to-day and 
get out of sound of the firing. They say there are fully 20,000 
prisoners there.” 

“ I don’t want to see the prisoners,” Mary said, with a shud’ 
der. “ I should like to go to Versailles, but let us keep 
away from horrors.” 

And so for a day they left the sound of battle behind, wan- 
dered together through the Park at Versailles, and carefully 
abstained from all allusion to the public events of the past six 
months. The next day Cuthbert returned to Paris and made his 
way down to the Place de la Bastille, where, for the sum of half 
a Napoleon, he obtained permission to ascend to the upper 
window of a house. The scene here was terrible. On the side 
on which he was standing a great drapery establishment, known 
as the Bon Marche, embracing a dozen houses, was in flames. 
In the square itself three batteries of artillery belonging to 
Ladmirault’s Division, were sending their shell up the various 
streets debouching on the place. 

Most of the houses on the opposite side were in flames. The 


332 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


insurgent batteries on the Buttes de Chaumont were replying to 
the guns of the troops. The infantry were already pressing their 
way upwards. Some of the barricades were so desperately de^ 
fended that the method by which alone the troops on the south 
side had been able to capture these defences, was adopted ; the 
troops taking possession of the houses and breaking their way 
with crow-bar and pick-axe through the party wall, and so, step 
by step, making their way along under cover until they ap- 
proached the barricades, which they were then able to make 
untenable by their musketry fire from the windows. Cuthbert 
remained here for an hour or two, and then making a detour 
came out on the Boulevards higher up. 

The Theatre of Porte St. Martin was in flames, as were many 
other buildings. A large number of troops with piled arms 
occupied the centre of the street, taking their turn to rest be- 
fore they relieved their comrades in the work of assault. Pres- 
ently he saw down a side street a party of soldiers with some 
prisoners. He turned down to see what was going on. The 
officer in command of the party came up to him. 

“ Monsieur has doubtless a pass,” he said, politely. 

Cuthbert produced it. 

“ Ah, you are English, monsieur. It is well for you that your 
country does not breed such wretches as these. Every one of 
them has been caught in the course of the last hour in the act 
of setting houses alight. They are now to be shot.” 

“ It is an unpleasant duty, monsieur,” Cuthbert said. 

It would be horrible at any other time,” the officer said. 
“But we cannot consider these creatures as human beings. 
They are wild beasts and I verily believe the women are worse 
than the men. There is only one I would spare, though she is 
the worst of all. At every barricade where the fighting has 
been fiercest for the last four days she has been conspicuous. 
The troops got to know her by her red cap and dress. She has 
been seen to shoot down men who attempted to retire, and she 
has led a charmed life or she would have been killed a thousand 
times. When she was taken she had on an old dress over her 
red one, and a hideous bonnet in place of the cap. She was 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE, 


333 


caught just as she had dropped a lighted match into a cellar. 
The flames flashed up at once, and two soldiers near ran up 
and arrested her. She stabbed one, but the other broke her 
wrist with a blow from the butt of his musket. 

“ Then came a curious thing. A man who had been standing 
in a doorway on the opposite side of the street ran out and 
declared that he was a sharer in her crime. His air was that 
of a madman, and the men would have pushed him away, but he 
exclaimed, ‘ I am Arnold Dampierre, one of the leaders of the 
Commune. This is my wife.’ Then the woman said, ‘The 
man is mad. I have never seen him before. I know Arnold 
Dampierre — everyone knows him. He does not resemble 
this man, whose proper place is a lunatic asylum.’ So they 
contended, and both were brought before the drumhead Court 
Martial. 

“The man had so wild an air that we should not have 
believed his story, but on his being searched his American pass- 
port was found upon him. Then the woman threw herself into 
his arms. ‘ We will die together then ! ’ she said. ‘ I would 
have saved you if you would have let me.’ Then she turned 
to us. ‘Yes, I am guilty. I have fought against you on the 
barricades,’ and she tore off her outer dress and bonnet. ‘ I 
have kindled twenty fires, but in this I am guilty alone. He 
stood by me on the barricades, but he would have nothing to 
do with firing houses. But I am a Parisian. I am the daughter 
of Martin Dufaure, who was killed an hour since, and my duty 
•w'as to the Commune first, and to my husband afterwards. I 
hate and despise you slaves of tyrants. You have conquered us 
but we have taught a lesson to the men who fatten on our 
suffering.’ 

“ Of course they were both ordered to be shot. I have given 
them all five minutes, but the time is up. Range them by the 
wall, men,” he said, turning to the soldiers. 

Cuthbert glanced for a moment and then turned away. The 
other women were mostly old, or at least middle-aged, and they 
stood scowling at the soldiers, and some of them pouring out 
the foulest imprecations upon them. 


334 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


Minette stood in the centre of the line conspicuous by her 
red dress. One hand grasped that of Arnold, who was gazing 
upon her as if oblivious to all else. Her head was held erect 
and she looked at her executioners with an air of proud de- 
fiance. 

Cuthbert hurried away, filled with an intense feeling of pity 
and regret. He heard Minette cry in a loud clear voice, 
“Vive la Commune ! ” Then there was a sharp volley and all 
was over, and a minute later the soldiers passed him on the 
way to join their comrades. 

He stood for a time at the corner of the street irresolute. 
He had seen scores of dead in the streets. He had thought he 
could see nothing worse than he had witnessed, but he felt that 
he could not go back, as he had first thought of doing, to the 
scene of execution. Comrades had fallen by his side in the 
fight at Champigny, but he had not felt for them as for this 
comrade who lay behind him, or for the girl who, with her 
talents, might have had a bright future before her had she been 
thrown amid other surroundings. He wondered whether he 
could obtain their bodies for burial. 

It did not seem to him possible. Vehicles could not be ob- 
tained at any price. The very request would seem suspicious, 
and suspicion at that hour was enough to condemn a man un- 
heard. The difficulties in the way would be enormous. Indeed, 
it would matter nothing. Arnold and Minette. They had fallen 
together and would lie together in one of the great common 
graves in which the dead would be buried. It would be little 
short of a mockery to have the burial service read over her, and 
had Arnold been consulted he would have preferred to lie 
beside her to being laid in a grave apart. 

So after a pause of five minutes Cuthbert moved away with- 
out venturing a single look back at the group huddled down by 
the wall, but walked away feeling crushed and overwhelmed by 
the untimely fate that had befallen two persons of whom he had 
seen so much during the past year, and feeling as feeble as he 
did when he first arose from his bed in the American ambulance. 

Several times he had to pause and lean against the wall, and 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


335 


when he had passed the barricade at the Place de la Concorde, 
towards which he had almost instinctively made his way, he sat 
down on one of the deserted seats in the Champs Elysdes, and 
burst into tears. It had hardly come upon him as a surprise, 
for he had felt that, conspicuous as he had made himself, the 
chances of Arnold making his escape were small indeed, 
especially as Minette would cling to the Commune until the 
very end. Still it never struck him as being possible that he 
himself might witness the end. He had thought that the same 
obscurity that hung over the fate of most of the other leaders 
of the Commune would envelop that of Arnold. He would 
have fallen, but how or when would never have been known. 
He would simply have disappeared. Rumor would have 
mentioned his name for a few days, the rumor that was already 
busy with the fate of other leaders of the insurrection, and he 
had never dreamt that it would be brought home to him in this 
fashion. After a time Cuthbert pulled himself together, waited 
until a fiacre came along — for on this side of Paris things were 
gradually regaining their usual aspect — and then drove back 
to Passy. 

“ What is the matter, Cuthbert ? ’’ Mary exclaimed as she 
caught sight of his face. “ Are you ill ? You look terribly pale 
and quite unlike yourself. What has happened ? 

“ I have had a shock, Mary,” he said, with a faint attempt 
at a smile, “ a very bad shock. Don’t ask me about it just at 
present. Please get me some brandy. I have never fainted in 
my life, but I feel very near it just at present.” 

Mary hurried away to Madame Michaud, who now always 
discreetly withdrew as soon as Cuthbert was announced, and 
returned with some cognac, a tumbler, and water. She poured 
him out a glass that seemed to herself to be almost alarmingly 
strong, but he drank it at a draught. 

“ Don’t be alarmed, Mary,” he said, with a smile, at the con- 
sternation in her face. “ You won’t often see me do this, and I 
can assure you that spirit-drinking is not an habitual vice with 
me, but I really wanted it then. They are still fighting fiercely 
from Porte St. Martin down to the Place de la Bastille. I be- 


A GIRL OF THF. COMMUNE. 


336 

lieve all resistance has been crushed out on the south side of 
the river, and in a couple of days the whole thing will be over.” 

“ Fancy a week of fighting. It is awful to think of, Cuthbert. 
How many do you suppose will be killed altogether ? ” 

“ I have not the least idea, and I don’t suppose it will ever 
be known ; but if the resistance is as desperate for the next two 
days as it has been for the last three, I should say fully 20,000 
will have fallen, besides those taken with arms in their hands, 
tried, and shot. I hear there are two general court-martials sit- 
ting permanently, and that seven or eight hundred prisoners are 
shot every day. Then there are some eighteen or twenty thou- 
sand at Versailles, but as these will not be tried until the fighting 
is over, and men’s blood cooled down somewhat, no doubt much 
greater leniency will be shown.” 

“ There is a terrible cloud of smoke over Paris, still.” 

“ Yes, fresh fires are constantly breaking out. The Louvre is 
safe, and the firemen have checked the spread of the flames at 
the public buildings, but there are streets where every house is 
alight for a distance of a quarter of a mile ; and yet, except at 
these spots, the damage is less than you would expect consider- 
ing how fierce a battle has been raging. There are streets 
where scarce a bullet mark is to be seen on the walls or a broken 
pane of glass in a window, while at points where barricades 
have been defended, the scene of ruin is terrible.” 

Two days later a strange stillness succeeded the din and 
uproar that had for a week gone on without cessation night and 
day. Paris was conquered, the Commune was stamped out, its 
chiefs dead or fugitives, its rank and file slaughtered, or prisoners 
awaiting trial. France breathed again. It had been saved 
from a danger infinitely more terrible than a German occupa- 
tion. In a short time the hotels were opened and visitors be- 
gan to pour into Paris to gaze at the work of destruction wrought 
by the orgie of the Commune. One day Cuthbert, who was now 
installed in his own lodging, went up to Passy. 

“ I hear that the English Church is to be open to-morrow, 
Mary. I called on the clergyman to-day and told him that I 
should probably require his services next week.” 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


337 

“ Cuthbert ! ” Mary exclaimed in surprise, “ you cannot 
mean ” and a flush of color completed the sentence. 

“ Yes, that is just what I do mean, Mary. You have kept me 
waiting three years and I am not going to wait a day longer.” 

“ I have given up much of my belief in women’s rights, Cuth- 
bert, but there are some I still maintain, and one of these is 
that a woman has a right to be consulted in a matter of this kind.” 

“ Quite so, dear, and therefore I have left the matter open, 
and I will leave you to fix the day and you can choose any 
one you like from Monday to Saturday next week.” 

“ But I must have time, Cuthbert,” she said, desperately. “ I 
have, of course, things to get.” 

“ The things that you have will do perfectly well, my dear. 
Besides, many of the shops are open and you can get anything 
you want. As for a dress for the occasion, if you choose to fix 
Saturday you will have twelve days, which is twice as long as 
necessary. Putting aside my objection to waiting any longer 
I want to get away from here to some quiet place where we can 
forget the events of the past month, and get our nerves into 
working order again. If there is any reason that you can de- 
clare that you honestly believe to be true and valid of course I 
must give way, but if not let it be Saturday week. That is right. 

I see that you have nothing to urge,” and a fortnight later they 
were settled in a chdlet high up above the Lake of Lucerne. 

Rene and Pierre acted as Cuthbert’s witnesses at the mar- 
riage. Pierre had escaped before the fighting began. Ren^ had 
done service with the National Guard until the news came that 
the troops had entered Paris, then he had gone to M. Gouda’s 
who had hidden him and seven or eight of the other students in 
an attic. When the troops approached, they had taken refuge on 
the roof and had remained there until the tide of battle had 
swept past, and they then descended, and arraying themselves 
in their painting blouses had taken up their work at the studio ; 
and when, three days later, the general search for Communists 
began, they were found working so diligently that none suspected 
that they had ever fired a shot in the ranks of the Communists. 

When the salon was opened, long after its usual time, Cuth- 
22 


A GIRL OF THE COMMUNE. 


338 

bert’s pictures were well hung and obtained an amount of 
praise that more than satisfied him, although his wife insisted 
that they were not half as warm as the pictures deserved. It 
was not until they had been for some time in Switzerland that 
Mary had learned the details of the deaths of Arnold and 
Minette Dampierre. That both were dead she knew, for when 
she mentioned their names for the first time after the close of 
the fighting, Cuthbert told her that he had learned that both 
were dead, and begged her to ask no question concerning them 
until he himself returned to the subject. 

Mary wrote to her mother a day or two after she was married 
giving her the news. An answer was received from Scarborough 
expressing great satisfaction, and saying that it was probable 
that the family would settle where they were. Neither Cuth- 
bert nor his wife liked the thought of returning to England, and 
for the next five years remained abroad. After spending a few 
months at Dresden, Munich, Rome, and Florence, they settled 
at Venice. Cuthbert continued to work hard, and each year 
two or three of his pictures hung on the walls of the Academy 
and attracted much attention, and were sold at excellent prices. 
All his earnings in this way and the entire income of Fairclose 
were put aside to pay off the mortgage, and when, at the end 
of the five years, Cuthbert, his wife, and two children returned 
to Fairclose, the greater portion of the mortgage had been paid 
off, and three years later it was entirely wiped out. 

Although very warmly received by the county, Cuthbert re- 
tained his preference for London, and during the winter six 
months always moved up to a house in the artists’ quarter at 
St. John’s Wood. Although he no longer painted as if com- 
pelled to do so for a living, he worked regularly and steadily 
while in town, and being able to take his time in carrying out 
his conceptions, his pictures increased in value and he took a 
place in the front rank of artists, and some fifteen years after 
the siege of Paris was elected Academician. Before this he had 
sold Fairclose and built himself a house in Holland Park, 
where he was able to indulge his love for art to the fullest 
extent. 


A GIRL OR THE COMMUNE, 


339 


Of his wife’s family he saw but little. Mary’s sisters both 
married before he and his wife returned from abroad. Mary 
went down occasionally to Scarborough, and stayed with her 
father and mother, but Mr. Brander steadily refused all invita- 
tions to visit them in London, and until his death, fifteen years 
later, never left Scarborough, where he became a very popular 
man, although no persuasions could induce him to take a part 
in any of its institutions or public affairs. 

Cuthbert has often declared that the most fortunate event in 
his life was that he was a besieged resident in Paris through its 
two sieges. As for Mary she has been heard to declare that 
she has no patience, whatever, with the persons who frequent 
platforms and talk about women’s rights. 

Not far from the spot in la Chaise where the pits in which 
countless numbers of Communists were buried are situated, 
stands a small marble cross, on whose pedestal are inscribed 
the words : — To the memory of Arnold Dampierre and his 
wife, Minette, whose bodies rest near this place.” 

THE END, 


A DAUGHTER OF 
THE PHILISTINES 

By LEONARD MERRICK 

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